


Lockheart

by Aublanc



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Asexual Character, Background Relationships, Genderfluid Loki, Multi, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Queerplatonic Relationships, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 50,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2150730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aublanc/pseuds/Aublanc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DISCONTINUED</p><p>A decade ago, the Chitauri invaded Earth, and mages created metal dragons to fight back. However, Earth is still losing. In an effort to end the war once and for all, General Loki leads an attack against Thanatos, the Chitauri's capital. The mission ends in failure, but one good thing does come of it; Tony Stark, blacksmith extraordinaire, is hired to repair the general's dragon. When the two meet, they find themselves suitably intrigued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Map of cities and territories can be found [here](https://s32.postimg.org/r8zpd63yt/Lockheart.png).

Sweat dripped down Tony's brow, pooling around the rim of his goggles. He ignored it and slammed the hammer down again. Ringing metal echoed through the smithy, followed closely by the hiss of burning coals. Once the gold-titanium alloy shifted back to a searing yellow-white, Tony pulled it from the flames and beat it against the anvil.

He repeated the process a dozen times, hammering and pulling the metal into shape. Only when the flat sheet had been sculpted into a vambrace did he stop, allowing the glow to simmer down to a dull red. His tools were set aside, and he wiggled his goggles to the top of his head to get a closer look at his creation. Heat radiated against his face as he inspected the divots and latches, and then he pulled back with a grin.

"Ha! I told you I could do it, Bruce!" He spun around to face his friend, who was in the middle of greasing a golden gear. "And to think you doubted my abilities."

Bruce raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. "If I remember right, the word I had used was 'shouldn't'. Just because you can do something doesn't mean it's a good idea."

"Bah, semantics," Tony said, whirling back towards his project. The metal had reverted to its natural silver, and he lifted it with thick gloves. "Besides, anything I do is a good idea."

He bounced across the smithy and shoved the gauntlet under Bruce's nose, blocking him from his work. The man sighed. "Tony, you are being ridiculous. Have you not slept in a while? Is that what this is?"

"You're as bad as Pepper," Tony grumbled. "I've slept within the past twenty-four hours. Now  _look_."

When Bruce finally relented and observed the vambrace, Tony felt like a child showing off a hideous charcoal drawing. Except, of course, what he had made was spectacular.

A few seconds passed without Bruce praising his genius, so Tony nudged the man's shoulder. "What do you think? I mean, I know it isn't perfect, and I've yet to decorate it. It's also a bit heavy, but I don't think that'll be a problem. There's always spells to get around that, and I-"

"Tony," Bruce interrupted. "What did I say about rambling?"

"Not to," Tony dutifully answered, but a second later, he took a deep breath and gushed, "But come on, don't you know how cool this is? Imagine when it's finished!"

"That's if it works, which frankly..." Bruce switched his focus from the vambrace to the other armor pieces strewn across Tony's desk and floor space. "I don't think it will. At least, I hope it doesn't. You're reckless enough as it is."

"You're just saying that because you're jealous I'll get to fly without a dragon," Tony said, pulling his creation away. If Bruce didn't appreciate it, he didn't get to look at it.

As Tony hid the vambrace behind his half-eaten lunch, Bruce rolled his eyes. "If you're done, I'm letting some air in here. It's sweltering."

He unbarred the thick metal shutters behind his desk, startling a pigeon that had been resting on the other side. It squawked and flew off, and in its place swept in cold winter air. Tony copied Bruce and opened the other two windows before grabbing a bucket of water and splashing it on the coals. The furnace sputtered, gushing smoke through the hole in the ceiling.

The empty bucket was soon refilled with water from the pipes, and Tony soaked an old washcloth in it. Then he set to wiping the sweat and soot from his bare chest, relishing the sudden chill just as much as he did finally being free of grime.

He had just dunked his head in the bucket to rise his hair when there was a commotion outside. With a frown, he pressed the water from his hair and went to the window. People were rushing through the streets in a dither, and a strike of fear went through Tony as he thought that Midgard was under attack. But then he realized that they weren't fleeing; they were running towards the city gates, where a large enough congregation had gathered that Tony could see it from his workshop.

"What is it?" Bruce asked.

"I don't know." Tony leaned farther out the window, but he was upwind from the gathering and couldn't make out any words. Then a young man ran past the window and Tony shouted, "Hey, what's going on?"

The boy stumbled and skidded to a stop, turning to him in surprise. "Haven't you heard? The Dragon Corp has returned, and people are saying they lost!"

Down the road, the shouting had grown louder as glinting beasts swooped down from the sky, heralding a caravan of returning soldiers. Drawn by the spectacle, the young man continued running, leaving Tony to frown after him.

There was shuffling from behind him, and he turned to see Bruce shrugging on his coat. "You're going down there?" Tony asked, slipping down from the window.

"Yeah." The man tightened fabric straps and adjusted his glasses. "Something is wrong. There shouldn't be this much fanfare, even if they did lose." He stopped at the door. "Are you coming?"

After a moment's hesitation, Tony nodded and grabbed his coat. He followed Bruce out of the smithy as he buttoned it, and then they hurried towards the gates. It was as if everyone in the city was on the streets, and they were still blocks away from the action when the congregation became too thick to walk through. Tony scowled at the shoulders and heads blocking his view before deciding that he wasn't going to wait where the only news he had was the concerned nattering of the two old women who lived next door.

Squaring his shoulders, he shoved into the crowd, and angry shouting followed in his wake. Bruce rushed to follow him, though he was too polite to ram his way through.

"Sorry. I need to get through here. Excuse me, I need to catch up with my friend." He accidentally bumped into an crotchety old man.

"Watch where you're going!"

"Sorry, sir. I will." Bruce ducked his head, trying to be less obtrusive, but he still had to force his way to Tony's side. Thankfully for him, Tony had run out of room to maneuver and was anxiously waiting at the corner of the main street.

"This is crazy," Bruce said, huddling into his coat to avoid knocking elbows with the woman next to him. "What do you think happened?"

"I don't know. Maybe they-"

His words were drowned out by angry shouts from farther down the road. "Get out of the way! Hurry up! Get out of the way!"

Unable to see what was happening, Tony stepped onto a flowerpot, smothering a peony under his boots. A woman with fiery red hair, a scorched uniform, and a Corp insignia on her shoulder was marching up the street, and the gathered civilians struggled to clear the path. They backed into alleyways and against the walls, though the woman's ire did not keep them from straining their necks to see the caravan that followed her.

There were two other dragon riders on her heels, and nestled between them was a wooden cart. It clattered across the cobblestones as they raced through the city, and despite their efforts to hold it steady, it shook and jostled. Tony squinted his eyes against the evening sun, trying to discern what they were so frantic about.

Then the cart passed by him, and he stared in shock at the body laid out on the wood. Red-stained bandages obscured their figure, and the visible swathes of flesh were either charred brown or ghostly white. Matted black hair stood out starkly against a slack and empty face, and were it not for the blood that dribbled from the man's mouth with each gasping breath, Tony would have thought him dead.

Seconds later, the group had passed, continuing their mad rush to the apothecary. The onlooking crowd was stunned into silence, and once the first cart had vanished around the corner, they turned as one to the other soldiers that were coming into view. They also walked alongside carts that bore covered bodies, but they had no need to rush; the riders inside had long since died.

As the death march proceeded, worried whispers arose.

"What in the world happened to them? Have the Chitauri grown stronger?"

"Did you see? Those weren't just any dragon riders—that was the First Corp."

"How are we supposed to win the war now?"

Growing tired of listening to frightened speculations, Tony hopped down from the flowerpot and caught Bruce's eye. He jerked his chin in the direction of the fort, and the other nodded. They wound through the crowd, and eventually they were spat out on the other side of Midgard.

However, the fort was just as busy as the city proper; foot soldiers and dragon riders were bustling back and forth, carrying news and supplies throughout the grounds. But though they dutifully carried out their orders, they did so in a daze. Their expressions were shell-shocked and forlorn.

Gut twisting in apprehension, Tony scanned the mayhem for someone who would be willing to give him answers. It didn't take long for him to find who he needed, and he stalked across the brittle grass as he called, "Rhodey!"

Rhodey broke off his conversation with the man he was talking to, an angry fellow with an eye-patch, and turned to face Tony. When he saw who had called for him, his troubled expression was momentarily lightened by a smile. "Tony, you're just the man I need!"

When Tony reached him, Rhodey pulled him into a hug and patted his back. Then he breathed in, wrinkled his nose, and drew back. "Ugh, you  _reek_. When was the last time you showered?"

"I've been in the smithy all day," Tony said. "You try doing that and coming out smelling like roses."

Rhodey grinned at him, but then the man he'd been talking to shifted impatiently. Schooling his expression, Rhodey turned away from Tony and said, "Send more troops along the border and request reinforcements from Vanaheim. If there's a counterattack, we need to be ready. We can't afford to lose more dragon riders."

"We can't afford to lose more soldiers, either," the man replied, his gaze moving to the weary ranks of soldiers. But then a large shadow fell across the fort, and they looked up to see a gleaming dragon pass overhead. Its metal and canvas wings beat hard against the air, buffeting the people below, and its rider leaned forwards in the saddle. Within the beast's chest, a purple light flared, and the next wing beat rocketed the dragon forwards.

Once the dragon had become nothing more than a dark speck in the sky, circling protectively over the city, they turned away and the man sighed. "I'll see what I can do," he conceded, and at Rhodey's nod, he spun on his heel and strolled towards the headquarters.

"That's Brigadier General Fury," Rhodey said when he noticed Tony's curious staring. "He's normally stationed at Albesaa, but in light of recent events, we're sending him to Stuttgart."

"Recent events?" Bruce asked. "Do you mean what happened with the First Corp?"

When Rhodey didn't answer immediately, Tony added to the pressure. "You said you need me for something. I'm going to guess it has something to do with why the entire military has gone to shit."

Realizing that he wasn't going to get away with being tight-lipped, Rhodey said, "We've been sustaining heavy losses for months now. This last one with the First Corp... It's going to crush morale. We need something to bolster their spirits and prove that the war isn't lost."

"And I'm somehow involved in that?" Tony asked. "Because I'm not really the bolstering type."

"No, but you're good at fixing things." When neither Tony nor Bruce showed comprehension at his words, Rhodey stepped back and gestured for them to follow. "I'll show you what I'm talking about."

Intrigued, Tony let him lead them through the compound. They stopped at the hangar, which was designed to accommodate over a dozen dragons. However, only four were inside, and the others were lying in wagons. Though perhaps 'lying' was the wrong word; the dragons before him were nothing more than twisted mounds of metal, their usual gleam blackened and splattered with crimson.

A group of trainees were in the middle of tugging a tarp off of one of the machines, and one of them slipped, accidentally falling into the dragon. With a groan, metal broke away, and a golden head rolled from the wagon into the dirt. The half of it that was visible was crushed inwards, and eyes that had once glowed with magic were now empty.

"Watch what you're doing, cadet!" a woman ordered, and when the boy began apologizing profusely, nearly stepping on a wing that trailed across the ground, she groaned. "This is the cream of the crop? They're nothing more than children."

"If I remember correctly, you weren't much better when you first joined the Corp," Rhodey said, and the woman turned to them in surprise.

"Lieutenant General Rhodes. I didn't see you standing there." She peered at Bruce and Tony. "Who are they?"

"Tony Stark, genius extraordinaire," Tony answered before Rhodey could. "And this shy fellow here is my assistant, Bruce Banner."

"I'm not your assistant," Bruce muttered, but he reached out to shake the woman's hand.

"Second Lieutenant Hill," she introduced, and then she offered Tony her hand. "Mr. Stark. I've heard a lot about you. We could use your expertise."

"Everyone could use my expertise." Tony said with a cocky grin. However, that grin became forced when he looked over her shoulder at the three slayed dragons. "I'm not really in the scrap business, though. I prefer more of a challenge."

"Then it's a good thing we don't need you for those. You're here for that." She pointed at a wagon that had been separated from the rest, though the dragon inside was no less mangled. Its left wing had been blasted off, its front legs were mutilated, and its chest had been gouged to the point that the rigging was sliding out.

And yet, despite how severely it was damaged, the dragon was still functional. It twitched as the maintenance crew poked at it, and when it turned its head—causing the gears in its neck to screech and grind—its eyes glowed faint green.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "You want me to fix  _that_?"

Hill matched his expression. "Are you saying you can't? From what I've heard, you were the best in the business until you stopped taking contracts."

"Oh, I can do it alright, but I don't think it'd do anyone any good."

As he spoke, the magic in the dragon's eyes abruptly dimmed until he could barely see wisps of green inside the bristling skull. Those who noticed froze and stared and the dying light in dread. They didn't dare breathe, as if doing so would extinguish it once and for all.

But then the magic rekindled, though it lacked the vibrancy it once had. It made Tony think back to the half-dead man he had seen, hanging onto his life by a thread, and he knew then what body had once sat upon the ruined beast before him. After all, a dragon didn't die until its rider did.

Once a minute had passed and the light remained, Rhodey found his voice. "They'll pull through. They have every time before."

"Whose dragon is it?" Bruce asked, his eyes darting to the dragon and away again.

Hill answered with her fists clenched. "General Loki's."

Though Tony hadn't had a face to attach to the name until today, Hill's words made his blood run cold. He would've had to live under a rock to not know who Loki was. And yet he hoped to whatever deity might be out there— _not_  the self-proclaimed gods of Asgard—that he had the name wrong. "Loki? As in the best dragon rider we've ever seen Loki? The Hero of Galisteo? That one?"

Hill's defeated expression was answer enough.

"I thought we were winning," Tony said. "Winning doesn't end with the general and half of the First Corp dead."

"Loki's not dead yet," Rhodey said forcefully. "It takes more than that to kill an Aesir."

Given the way the dragon's magic kept fading, Tony thought that 'yet' was an apt way to put it. He had seen the general; wounds like that had killed would-be gods before. What the Corp needed to focus on was promoting a new leader, not fixing a dragon that was doomed to be scrapped.

Tony opened his mouth to say as much, but Bruce spoke before he did. "The First Corp were sent to handle a skirmish near Odessa, weren't they? I thought the Chitauri didn't have weapons there that could destroy a dragon."

Hill looked towards Rhodey, and Rhodey looked to make sure no one was listening. Then he quietly admitted, "We leaked information that they were going to Odessa because we suspect that there's a spy reporting our plans to the Chitauri. Their actual mission was to assault the portal in Thanatos."

" _Thanatos_?" Tony echoed in disbelief. "That's not a mission. That's a suicide run!"

His shout had attracted attention, and Hill glared at him. "Are you trying to compromise military secrets?"

"It's not much of a secret now that the Chitauri nearly killed them, now is it?" Tony asked, but he obligingly lowered his voice. "The enemy already knows your plans. The only ones left to lie to are us civilians."

Hill, who had yet to master a blank mask, darted her eyes away, and Tony realized that he had hit the nail on the head.

"Huh, you  _are_  trying to lie to us. Why? You don't want anyone to know how much Loki screwed up?"

"I'm telling you this because I know you won't cooperate otherwise," Rhodey said. "But if the news gets out that we not only attacked Thanatos but lost three dragon riders in the process, people are going to panic. They'll lose faith that we can actually win this war. That's why we need you to fix the general's dragon. It'll give them something to rally around."

"You mean it'll distract them from the fact that you're lying to them," Tony said, but then he shrugged. "Fine. If that's what you want, I'll fix the damn dragon. But I'm charging a fortune for it, and I expect to be paid even when Loki dies and it becomes nothing more than a scrapheap."

 


	2. Chapter 2

On the second day after the First Corp returned from Thanatos in ruin, the light in the dragon's eyes went out. Or at least, Tony thought it had.

“No, no, no,” he whispered, lurching out of his chair towards the motionless machine. He grabbed its head in his hands, peered into its empty eye sockets, and desperately searched for a hint of light. There was nothing.

“Is he-” Bruce started, but Tony interrupted him.

“Close the windows,” he ordered as he released the dragon's head and stalked towards the forge. There was the start of a chest plate sitting in the flames, nearly hot enough to work, but Tony threw water into the fire without a second thought. It sputtered down to dim coals, and with the windows closed, dusk fell inside the smithy.

Tony hurried back to the dragon's side and leaned down, but he still couldn't find a hint of magic within it. Refusing to accept what was before him, he filled another bucket and ignored Bruce's confusion as he drowned the furnace again. Then he pulled the shutter closed, causing smoke to lazily drift around the ceiling.

Using the scant light that leaked past the windows, Tony moved towards the dragon. Normally the constructs were beacons in the night, but the one lying on his floor was glinting gold encasing an empty void.

“Damnit,” Tony muttered. “We can't afford to lose him now.”

He could hear the anxious tittering of the city beyond his walls, and he knew the announcement of General Loki's death would be met with panic. The military had tried to assuage fears by saying that Loki's injuries weren't as severe as they seemed, but given the state of the general's dragon, those words were nothing more than lies. The Chitauri had taken their general just like they took everything else.

But then, as Tony turned to reopen the windows, he noticed a glimmer out of the corner of his eyes. He stopped and stared at the dragon, and a second later, it happened again; a faint wisp of magic drifted through the metal frame before dispersing back into darkness.

“He's alive,” Bruce said in disbelief.

“Yeah...” Another wisp appeared only to vanish faster than the first. “But for how long?”

Tony ended up watching the dragon throughout the night. When Bruce commented on his vigil, he waved it away, saying he had an ingenious idea he had to sketch out. However, each time the magic disappeared, he'd put out the candle and wait for green light to break the emptiness.

Then, sometime between midnight and dawn, he fell asleep with his chair facing the construct. When he awoke, it was to Bruce shaking his shoulder.

“Tony, look.”

He groaned, blinking against the sunlight flooding the smithy, and pulled himself upright. “That's the last time I'm sleeping in a chair,” he muttered as he turned to Bruce. “What is it?”

The man's response was to point at the dragon, and Tony felt his stomach drop. That was it- the general had died while he was sleeping. They were going to march his coffin through the streets and-

His eyes fell on the dragon, and his fear was replaced with shock. Then, as he continued staring at the bright, steady light coursing through the machine, he grinned.

“That son of a bitch made it.”

-o-o-o-

“No, stop! What are you doing? You can't put that gear there!”

“Tony, I think I know what I'm doing. I have more experience with dragons than you do.”

“Riding one doesn't count. There's plenty of dragon riders who don't know a spur gear from a hypoid gear. Besides, that was nine years ago. The original design is outdated.”

“You're getting paid to fix the dragon, Tony. Not experiment with it.”

“I am fixing it—fixing the inefficient design. Now put that gear down and leave the engineering to the master.”

Rolling his eyes, Bruce dropped the gear onto the desk. “You're lucky I still put up with you.”

“You know you love me,” Tony said with a smirk, and then he returned his attention to the half-rigged wing before him. The limb was held aloft by ropes that were hooked to the ceiling, though the smithy was too small for it to be extended fully; the tip of the wing scraped against the wall.

Even though he was standing on a desk, Tony had to stretch himself to reach the higher clamps, and he fumbled with the wing in one hand while the other held a thick sheet of canvas. Not for the first time, he regretted attaching the limb before it was finished, especially when his patient was a pain in the ass.

Just as Tony was closing the last latch, the wing jerked and yanked the fabric from his hands. He stumbled after it, nearly falling off the table, and once he righted himself, he glared at the dragon. “Hey, what did I say about moving?”

Lifting its head from the the ground, the construct regard Tony with glowing eyes. Though the man knew that the dragons were not sentient, not the way humans or animals were, he could have sworn that it was amused by his frustration. With a groan, he looked away and tugged pointedly on the wing. “Hold still. I'm trying to fix you, metal for brains.”

This time, the dragon obeyed, and Tony finished snapping in the artificial membrane. But then when he unhooked the ropes to check that the wing folded properly, the tip fell to the ground with a thud. Hopping off the table, Tony nudged it with his foot.

“Fold your wing.”

The dragon didn't move.

“I know you can hear me. Hurry up. I'm on a deadline.”

When the dragon continued to ignore him, Tony psyched himself up to lug the wing across the room, but just as he lifted the end of it, the wing retracted. It nestled against the dragon's side with a loud groan, and Tony frowned.

“I could have sworn I fixed that jamb,” he muttered, stepping over the machine and peering into its shoulder to find that one of the gears had fallen out of alignment. He cursed, glanced at the clock, and cursed again. “I'm not going to finish on time. Bruce, come handle this while I finish its arm.”

His friend didn't look up from the inventory sheets he had busied himself with. “You told me to stop messing with it.”

“Ugh, fine, I take back what I said. Now go fix its shoulder.”

“It wouldn't kill you to be polite, you know,” Bruce said, but he stood and fetched a screwdriver, tub of grease, and sanding rod.

Tony claimed the vacated chair and shoved aside the paperwork in order to spread out the unused gears. Then he dragged the half-finished arm forwards, inspecting it for damage. When he was satisfied that Bruce hadn't messed with it again, he started attaching the remaining pieces. The gears fell into place with ease, and he was pleased to note that when he flexed the limb, it had a greater range of motion than the original design.

“Alright, let's finish this up,” he said, hefting the arm from the table and lugging it over to the dragon. Bruce finished greasing the machine's shoulder and stepped back, allowing Tony to reach the connection port. He made quick work of welding the pieces together, and once he was sure it was stable, he motioned for the dragon to stand.

For the first time in a month, the machine was able to rise to its feet, and it flexed each limb as Tony instructed. The man walked around the dragon, searching for any flaws or anomalies, but he found none.

“You know, I think I might actually miss this ornery pile of rust,” he said as he came to a stop in front of the construct. Then he checked his pocket watch and groaned. “I'm half an hour late. Help me get it onto the cart, will you?”

Bruce was already a step ahead of him, shoving open the swinging doors that attached the smithy to a wide alleyway. Outside, four draft horses snorted and shuffled their feet, pulling on the harnesses that attached them to a wagon. They quieted as Bruce approached with his hands raised disarmingly. He ran his hand along the back of the closest horse, soothing it, and once the animals' protests faded into silence, he nodded to Tony.

“Show time,” Tony muttered, guiding the dragon forwards. It lumbered towards the door, and as it moved, Tony kept a close eye on the leg he'd just replaced. However, the limb held, and the only thing slowing the dragon was the narrow exit they were attempting to force it through. He had thought hauling the machine inside was a struggle, but now that it had all of its limbs, the reverse was even harder.

Metal screeched against stone as the dragon ducked through the doorway, and one of the construct's wings caught on the door hinges. With an annoyed grunt, the dragon yanked its wing forwards, tearing the wood from the wall. Then it shoved the rest of its body through, leaving Tony to stare is dismay at the damage.

“I take it back—I'm not going to miss it,” the man said as he followed the wake of destruction to where the dragon was clambering into the wagon. The wood creaked beneath its weight, and the horses glanced nervously at it. Once again Bruce calmed then, and as Tony stepped up to take the man's place, he asked, “You coming with?”

Bruce shook his head. “I've got to get back to work. With the dragon taking up the smithy, I've fallen behind on my orders.”

“Suit yourself,” Tony said with a shrug. He untethered the lead horses' reigns from a wooden post and lightly tugged the animals forwards. “Come on. I want to get this over with.”

The horses shared his desire, and they lurched into motion, causing the wagon's wheels to clatter against the cobblestones. They emerged from the alleyway and turned west, heading down the busy street. Curious cityfolk paused in their errands to watch as Tony led the dragon passed, and once they guessed who the construct belonged to, their relief was palpable.

Though Tony was no stranger to stares—was, in fact, quite fond of attracting them—he had no patience for the people obstructing his path, especially when the fort grew closer and the dragon grew more lively. It strained its neck to peer over the fort's high walls and flared its wings, nearly knocking over the wagon.

“If you don't stop that, I'm going to put a tarp over you,” Tony warned, but though he would have been glad to carry the threat out, they had already reached the gates.

The guards stationed under the arch took one look at his cargo and unbarred his way, shepherding him into the grounds. Unlike last month, when the fort was in complete disarray and people were everywhere, the compound was calm and almost empty. Tony didn't let that fool him, however, into thinking that the war was going well; no one was there because they were dead or on the front lines.

Unable to locate a familiar face to dump the dragon on, Tony groaned and made his way farther into the fort. Rhodes had warned him before that he wasn't allowed to wander around military zones without an escort, but if they didn't have someone waiting for him, that was their problem.

When he found his way back to the hangar, there was still no sign of Hill, but there was a man in the middle of greasing a dragon's gears. As Tony brought the horses to a stop, the rider glanced over, but once he saw who it was, he lost interest and returned to maintaining the dragon.

Bristling at the dismissal, Tony asked, “Hey, do you know where Hill is? I've got a delivery for her.”

He received no reply, and so he raised his voice and continued, “If you guys don't want your dragon back, fine. But if I'm taking it back, I hope you know that I'm going take it apart piece by piece.”

That got him a reaction; the rider gritted his jaw and moved his oiling rag with jerky swipes. But he still didn't speak, so Tony kept going, pushing buttons until one of them gave.

“Even though I've repaired dozens of dragons, I've never completely understood how they ticked, and the Corp isn't too keen on sharing their secrets. But I bet if I dismantled it, I could figure it out even without magic. Then I could rebuild it and use it for myself. Maybe even make a doz-”

The rider, who's muscles had been getting more tense as Tony spoke, abruptly flung himself to his feet and took an angry step towards Tony. Sunlight glinted off of the man's left arm as metal plates whirred and shifted.

Startled, Tony stepped back and raised his hands in surrender. “Woah, man. Chill, okay? I was just joking.”

“Then perhaps you should consider making better jokes,” a voice said from behind Tony, and he turned to see a woman behind him, her arms crossed as she leaned against the wagon. The general's dragon shifted in the cart to rest its muzzle against her face, covering a deep pink scar that stretched across the left side.

“And you are?” Tony asked, but it seemed like no one wanted to listen to him today, because instead of answering, the woman turned her attention to the furious dragon rider.

“Are you alright?” she asked, and after a moment, the man's stance relaxed and he nodded. It seemed the woman didn't believe him though, because she continued to scrutinize him.

“I'm fine,” the man rasped, surprising Tony; he was starting to think the man couldn't speak. “It's not a big deal.”

Though not content with the response, the woman shifted her focus back to Tony, and her expression became icy again. “You're late.”

Realizing that he had somehow made a mistake and offended both riders, Tony bit down his sarcastic retort and said, “I got held up. Now I'm looking for Hill; she said she would meet with me.”

“She left when you didn't show up,” the woman replied. “She has better things to do than wait around all day.”

Then the dragon, looking more animated now than it had all month, shoved its snout against the woman again. She turned to it, and the green magic dancing in its eyes reflected in hers. The woman's glare partially thawed, and she asked, “Is Lockheart fit to fly?”

“Yeah, he's ready. But umm... Who are you? I was supposed to talk to Hill, or if she was unavailable, Loki.”

There was a chuckle from behind Tony, sounding both parts amused and vindictive. He glanced back at the metal-armed rider, but the man had gone back to acting like Tony didn't exist. The woman, on the other hand, was staring at Tony with a frightening expression, but before he could backtrack, her scowl was replaced with a grin that was, admittedly, just as disturbing.

“Who, me?” the woman asked, drawing away from the dragon and stepping towards Tony “I'm nobody important. In fact...”

She continued to approach him until they were mere inches apart. Then, when tony didn't back down, she leaned forwards so her mouth was near his ear. “I'd much rather talk about you. You're reputation proceeds you, you know. Best blacksmith of the decade—a true heir to your father's legacy.”

Tony bristled at her words, and when he reared his head back, he could see her smirk stretch wider. That's when he decided fuck it; he wasn't about to let a stranger intimidate him.

He matched her grin, flashing his teeth, and reached up to grab the hand that had been ghosting across his arm. Pulling on the limb, he drew the woman closer until they were flushed up against each other. The top of Tony's head barely passed the woman's chin, and he had to look up to meet her wicked green eyes, but that didn't stop him from saying, “Then I guess you haven't heard of my other reputations. The more... _exciting_ ones.”

His actions took the woman by surprise, and she glanced down at where their bodies were touching. But then she slipped back into a mask, grabbing his free arm so it looked almost like they were about to start dancing. “Are you implying that you'll show me?”

“Perhaps.”

She laughed, and if he didn't think she might slit his throat and leave his body in a ditch, Tony would have thought it sounded nice. “I don't think you understand the depth of your daring,” she purred, tightening her grip on his hand.

“Oh really? Then enlighten me.”

She tilted her head down until their noses were practically touching. Green eyes glittered with mischief, and she opened her mouth to reply. A shout interrupted her.

“Bucky, I told you to wait for me!”

Tony and the woman's heads snapped towards the corner of the hangar to see a gangly young man running around the corner. His eyes widened when he saw them, and he had to dig his heels in to keep from barreling into them. Once he skidded to a stop, he leaned against the hangar wall to catch his breath.

“Sorry,” he gasped. “Didn't see you... there...” His voice trailed off as he took in their compromising positions.

The woman sighed and pulled away. “It's not what it looks like,” she said. “I was merely... testing the waters.”

The newcomer raised his eyebrow, pulling himself up to his full height, though considering the man was even shorter than Tony, it wasn't much. “By hitting on him?”

“It is not the worst I have done,” she said with a shrug.

Though Shorty was unimpressed by her answer, he accepted it and turned towards Sir Grouchy. “What about you, Buck? What's your excuse for letting her terrorize a civilian?”

“It was amusing to watch,” the other man said unrepentantly. When his skinny friend continued to frown at him, Bucky groaned. “Aww, come off it, Steve. Loki didn't hurt him.”

Tony's brain stuttered. 'Loki?' He glanced around them, half expecting the general to spontaneously appear, but there was no one else. Which meant...

“That doesn't mean-”

“Woah, hold up,” Tony blurted, drawing their attention back to him. He stared at the woman with wide eyes, and she smirked back at him, knowing exactly what he had realized. “ _You're_ General Loki?”

“The one and only,” she said, and as she spoke, Tony's attention was drawn back to the burn scars along her side. Then his eyes went to her black hair, the invigorated dragon, and back to the familiar burns on sallow skin.

“I...” Tony started, about to say, 'I should have guessed that,' but then he remembered why the thought had never crossed his mind. “I thought Loki was a man?”

“I am whatever I choose to be,” Loki said, and her eyes challenged him to contradict her.

Not one to back down from a fight, Tony was about to do just that, but then he caught sight of Steve frantically shaking his head. After a second's hesitation, common sense won out, and Tony replaced his retort with the first thing that came to mind. “I fixed your dragon.”

Loki laughed again, and while it was mocking, Tony thought she also sounded pleased. “I've noticed.”

Her gaze turned to the dragon, and with a tilt of her head, it sprung from the wagon to land by her side. Tony yelped and stumbled back, nearly getting knocked over by its wings, and the horses snorted in alarm. Loki didn't notice or didn't care, too busy running her fingers across golden metal. The dragon leaned into her touch, and within its chest, the glow of magic grew brighter.

Then the machine lowered itself and Loki reached onto its back, grabbing one of its spikes and deftly pulling herself into the saddle. Her boots slid into chambers between the dragon's spine and wings, and once she was settled, the gears rotated to lock her in place.

“Let's see if your work is as good as they say,” she said, looking down at them. “Sergeant, fetch my helmet.”

Steve looked towards Bucky, and Bucky raised his grease-stained hands. Rolling his eyes, Steve went to the storage shed next to the hangar and emerged with an ostentatious helmet. It had curved horns sprouting from a golden band, goggles, and the side-panels of an aviator cap. Loki took the helmet from Steve and put it on, and as she did so, her mischievous body language shifted into something more serious.

“You're dismissed,” Loki told Tony. “Next time, I suggest that you arrive on time.”

Then she gripped the reigns along the dragon's neck and pressed herself tightly to the metal. Gears clanked and whirred as wings flung outwards, shoving against the air and lifting the construct's feet from the ground. Tony covered his eyes as dust billowed, and when he lowered his arm, the dragon had risen above the hangar. Its body gleamed in the evening sun, and Tony could barely see Loki on its back as it banked towards the city walls.

The two flew farther and farther away, leaving Tony to stare after them. It wasn't until Steve started talking to Bucky that he moved, but he even then, he kept glancing at the dark speck on the horizon as he led the horses home.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Black ink scrawled across the page, the letters indistinct and bisected by the line upon which they were meant to sit. The second the dip pen lifted from the page, Loki shoved the signed document to the side and grabbed another. When she caught sight of how many papers still remained, her lip curled, and she nearly knocked over her inkwell as she slammed the pen back in.

Loki was saved from the mind-numbing tedium of paperwork by footsteps coming down the hall. Her eyes darted to the open pocket watch sitting at the corner of the desk; right on time, as usual. Setting the pen down, Loki turned towards the door and called, “Please tell me you have something more interesting than equipment requisitions.”

The door opened, and Second Lieutenant Natasha Romanov stepped inside, bringing with her muddy footprints and puddles of water. Loose red strands were plastered to her face, and she pushed them towards the ponytail that dripped onto the floor along with the rest of her sodden uniform. As she closed the door firmly behind her, her fingers left streaks of black on the oak.

“General,” Natasha said, standing at attention until Loki waved her forwards. She strode to his desk, and from the bag slung across her chest, she procured a clean oiling cloth with which she dried her hands. Then she grabbed a stack of papers and dropped them on the desk, nearly knocking over the pile of forms. “I think you'll find that we could use a little boring.”

“What did you find?” Loki asked as she pulled the papers closer. She flicked through them, scanning the contents, and realized that they were field reports dating back as far as half a decade. There was one from four years ago that had her name written in the corner, detailing an expedition to Storhul that had ended in disaster.

Loki's brow furrowed. “You think that this mission was compromised by the spy?” She went to another report, this one from three years ago. It stated in impersonal ink that the Chitauri had taken another town and that the Dragon Corp had lost their general. That had been the one time that Loki hadn't been pleased about getting promoted. “That all of these went wrong because of a spy?”

“Not just one spy,” Natasha said as she began to wring out her jacket. Outside, a crack of thunder shook the air and rattled the window pane. “The effects are too far blown to be just one.”

“Then how many?”

Natasha shrugged. “It's hard to tell. At least one in every city. More in Midgard. They knew about Albatyn, which means they haven't just breached the army. They're in the Dragon Corp, too.”

“Damn it.” Loki dropped the papers and leaned back in the chair, her hand reaching up to massage the thick, unwieldy skin on her neck. “They knew we were going to Thanatos. We weren't being clever—they've always been a mile ahead of us.” She clenched her fist. “How had we not noticed before? How had _I_ not noticed before?”

“Because they're good,” Natasha said bluntly. When Loki glowered at her, she didn't back down. Rank had never been able to curb her sharp tongue; it was one of her most endearing and frustrating qualities. “Whoever they are, they've been playing us for years. They aren't amateurs, and now that they've made a mistake, they'll be even more cautious.”

“Not cautious enough to keep them from killing my riders,” Loki growled. “We need to put an end to this now. I'll contact Lieutenant General Rhodes, make him gather his officers, and we'll flush the spies out. Interrogate everyone who had a hand in Albatyn, and-”

“And what? Make people doubt the military even more?” Natasha interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest and smearing mud across the white V of her exposed undershirt. “You know as well as I do that shooting in the dark will accomplish nothing but chaos. If we start pointing fingers, it will do nothing but destabilize our control. I don't need to tell you that we need all of the control we can get.”

Loki stared at the spy, gobsmacked, and when Natasha lifted an eyebrow to say, 'What? You know I'm right,' the general slumped back into her chair. Despite the gravity of the situation, a fond grin tugged at her lips. “It is a wonder no one has court-martialed you before, Second Lieutenant.”

Natasha returned the expression and said, “They've tried, but they need me too much to lock me away.” Then her smile flattened. “There's little public action we can take, but my colleagues in Knowhere are conducting investigations of their own. Until they've yielded results, I'd advise keeping quiet about how much we know. Let the enemy think we're still ignorant.”

“For all that it matters, we _are_ ignorant. They've taken countless li-”

Another crack of thunder drowned out her words. It shook the stone, faded, and then redoubled in ferocity, bringing with it a fresh flood of rain. The window across the room creaked piteously, and water started to pool under the pane, dribbling down the eroded stone.

Loki pulled open her desk drawer and began to shove papers in, crumpling their edges. When she spoke, her voice was just loud enough to carry over the storm. “When Asgard was still considered a pantheon by mortals, I had been known as a master of deceit. The God of Lies.” She laughed harshly. “My brethren must be mocking me right now for letting parasites grow in my own domain.”

Natasha, for once, held her tongue, and Loki envied her sangfroid. She knew that Natasha had to be as outraged as her, had to feel as _guilty_ , but none of that showed in her expression. The woman was like stone, and when Loki felt like she had regained a mere fraction of that control, she said, “Until your colleagues follow through, I will delay taking decisive action, and I will advise Lieutenant General Rhodes to do the same. You're dismissed.”

Loki turned back to the desk, grabbed her pen, and was about to dip it into the inkwell when she noticed that Natasha hadn't moved. Loki groaned, setting the pen back down. Natasha had been right; she did prefer the simplicity of paperwork.

“What else do I need to worry about?”

“There's Chitauri mobilizing to the south of Albatyn. They're heading to Odessa.”

Loki closed her eyes, breathed out slowly, and resisted the urge to bang her head against the desk. She had just sent the riders in Odessa to assist in Svartalheim. “How fast are the Chitauri moving?”

“At the pace they were going, they should reach the wall by nightfall.”

A quick check of her pocket watch confirmed what Loki feared. Even if she could recall the riders in time to stop the assault, Malekith would not take kindly to her rescinding her offer to help. She sighed, set the pen down again, and rose to her feet. “We'll head to Odessa and cut them off.”

Once again, Natasha remained rooted in place. “They haven't mobilized an entire legion,” she said, her words oddly hesitant. “We could send a battalion of foot soldiers, perhaps request assistance from the Howling Commandos in Stuttgart.”

It didn't take long for Loki to understand what Natasha was trying to do. She tried to stand straighter, pulling the weight off of her right leg, but she couldn't help the way her jaw clenched at the throbbing ache. “The Howling Commandos have their own province to protect. We'll take care of it. The team could use the practice.”

Not giving Natasha time to come up with a counter-argument—because Loki had no doubt that, if given the opportunity, Natasha could convince her of anything—the general headed for the door. It took a few steps for her gait to even out, but once she got into the rhythm, it was impossible to tell that her hip had been brutally wrenched out of place.

After a moment, Natasha followed, and the two stalked through the compound. They passed by other offices, the training room in which Hill was drilling some new recruits, and a ritual room before stepping outside. The rain immediately pelted them, and the mud sucked in their feet as they crossed the short distance to the Corp barracks. Loki shoved the door open, and a gust of wind made the lanterns flicker, drawing the attention of the two riders inside. At the sight of the general, they both snapped to attention.

“We're moving out within the hour. Get your supplies ready,” Loki announced, coming to a stop before the couches. She frowned at the empty space to Bucky's left. “Where's Sergeant Rogers?”

Without a word, Bucky slid from the room into the adjoining living quarters. He returned a moment later on the heels of a tired Steve Rogers. The scrawny man was rubbing at eyes, still in his nightclothes, and when he pulled his hand away, it revealed the red flush in his cheeks.

“Loki?” he asked, squinting at the general. “What are you doing here? I thought that we have the day off.”

“We _do_ have the day off.” Clint said, easing out of his salute. His eyes slid from Loki to Natasha, who was standing rigidly near the door. “At least, we did. What city is it this time?”

“Odessa. The Chitauri are advancing on the wall as we speak.”

Annoyance morphed into apprehension. “And the squadron that is normally stationed there?”

“They're on another assignment.” Loki met each of their gazes. “We're the only ones available to stop them, understood?”

“Yes, ma'am,” the team chorused, and the general waved them towards their rooms. They hurried away, and she could hear drawers open and slam closed as they gathered their uniforms.

Loki went in the other direction, to her private quarters. The door locked behind her, and as she walked to the closet, she loosened her corset. It fell to the floor, quickly accompanied by her skirt, and was kicked to the side. She slid her new armor from the hanger, fingers brushing against the protective mail and stiff fabric. Though it had been weeks since she had worn full gear, and the material still reeked with chemicals, the feel of it around her shoulders was a comfort that little else provided.

When Loki looked down to fasten the straps, she paused, her eyes lingering on the warped flesh that spanned across her entire left side. Along her ribs, where the burn was the worst, her skin had become mottled red, and tendrils of raised skin reached past her sternum. Her hand traced along the marks, going from patches where she couldn't feel her own touch to spots where the lightest sensation had, not even a week ago, incited sparks of pain. A month ago, the entire area had been burned open, the charred blackness interspersed with crimson and bone.

Loki pulled her hand away and continued to buckle her armor, hiding the worst of the damage from sight. There was little she could do about the marks around her face, however, and when she bound her hair, it only drew attention to waxy skin above her ear and around half of her eye. She scrutinized her reflection, and the more she looked, the less content she became. But it wasn't just the scar that bothered her. In fact, the more she looked, the less that mattered compared to her too thick lips and round face.

Magic washed through Loki's body, reshaping all that it came in contact with, and when Loki looked back into the mirror, a more angular face greeted him. Content, he placed on the last of his armor and left the barracks. The rain had not slowed while he was inside, and he was drenched by the time he made it to the hangar. Clint and Natasha were already there, leading their dragons out onto the sodden field. The beasts were undeterred by the rain, and their wings flexed eagerly as they cleared the awning.

Loki grabbed his helmet and a saddlebag from the storage shed before entering the hangar. Only one torch was still lit, its flickering light barely enough to offset the overcast sky, but even if the building were pitch black, Loki would have had no problem finding Lockheart's stall. Each step he took made the green light seeping through the gaps in the door grow brighter, and he could hear his construct rouse with a hiss of steam.

Protecting the stall was a massive steel gate, the two panels held in place by half a ton of weights and gears. When Loki reached it, he placed his hand on the rune etched across the seam, and the door glowed the same color as the light within. The machinery groaned as the gate slid open, and Loki stepped back just as Lockheart sprang free of his confinement, claws scrapping against stone.

The dragon filled almost the entire walkway, and Loki had to duck under its wings to attach the supplies to hooks lining its chest. After the equipment was secured, he pressed a hand to Lockheart's flank, urging the machine forwards. It obeyed with a lurch, and they walked from the hangar, crossing paths with Bucky and Steve at the exit.

Once they reached the courtyard, Loki walked around Lockheart, inspecting the machinery for any flaws. In the light, he could easily see where the dragon's original frame gave way to Stark's repair; the gleaming gold of the new pieces made the old ones, scoured by sand and tarnished by hot steam, look like dull bronze. But just as Loki had found when he flown the previous day, the blacksmith's work, unlike his demeanor, was flawless.

With the easy part over, Loki grit his jaw and grabbed the reign threaded through Lockheart's neck. He dragged himself onto the dragon's back and shifted in the saddle, but no matter what position he sat in, the throbbing in his hip remained. It had been fine yesterday, but he was quickly learning that pain was worse when the weather was foul. However, a crotchety hip was better than being dead, and Loki slid his legs into the stirrups, letting the metal lock him into place.

Loki guided Lockheart towards Natasha and Clint, who were attempting to shield each other from the rain with their dragons' wings. Strong gusts of wind undermined their efforts, and Clint has wiping the water from his goggles when the general reached them.

“Are you sure it's safe to ride like this?” Clint asked, putting his helmet back on. He fumbled with the buckle, but eventually, he secured the strap under his chin. “I can hardly see two feet in front of me. Not to mention it's freezing.”

“The rain will stop long before we reach the desert,” Loki said, but he too was scowling; the cotton lining the inside of his helmet itched his skin, and the horns caused water to drip down the back of his shirt. Not surprisingly, the dragon riders were the only ones outside. The rest of the fort was as still as a grave.

“Is Hill not joining us?” Steve asked as he Bucky approached with their dragon, a twin-headed monstrosity that was so large it made Lockheart look small.

Loki shook his head. “She has other duties to tend to. This mission, it's just the five of us.”

Silence fell over the group, and Loki did not miss the way the others glanced towards the empty spaces like they expected them to be filled. A month ago, they had flown as a team of eight. A year before that, they had been a team of thirteen. But now the only things that remained of the others were neglected stalls and unused beds.

The sky gave a plaintive cry as rain streamed down their faces, and Loki looked away, clenching Lockheart's reigns in his fists. He took the guilt and buried in deep within his chest, where it would hopefully rot with the rest of his regrets. The he urged his dragon to spread it wings, drawing the other riders' attention.

“It's time to move out,” Loki said and propelled Lockheart into the air. A moment later, the team followed, and they left the rain of Midgard behind for the arid steppes.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“On your left!”

Bullets scythed through the sky, and Lockheart lurched sideways. Most of the shots went wide, and the few that pinged off the dragon's side were easily ignored. Loki hunkered down against the dragon's back as it pulled out of a roll, and once they were level, Loki guided Lockheart down into a dive. They descended towards the blood-soaked earth, magic thrumming through metal and flesh alike.

Below them, Winter threw itself at the Chitauri without pause. Its twin heads snapped at raised cannons as its claws dug into the tank's vulnerable sides. There was a wide swathe of destruction left in the dragon's wake, and it showed no signs of stopping. Winter was as merciless as the season it was named after, and though the Chitauri ranks churned around it, no one could get in an attack. Any who tried to shoot the skinny blond leading the machine into battle was taken out by Winter's other pilot, who was watching the enemy with a sniper's eye.

To the north of Winter, the Chitauri were pulling back and regrouping, and it was there that Loki put his attention. Acid green filled Lockheart's chest, bubbled up through the tubes in his throat, and coalesced in his mouth. With a hiss, the dragon's jaw dropped open, and a beam of magic shot forth.

For a second, the magic made no sound, and then it hit the ground. A crack like thunder shook the air as fire exploded outwards, consuming a tank and all who surrounded it. Burnt corpses collapsed to the ground in a ring around the crumpled shell, leaving a blackened hole in the enemy's ranks.

However, the Chitauri's armies were vast, and within seconds, the area was swarming with insectoids. They climbed over their fallen kin without batting an eye, and Lockheart had to pull out of its dive to avoid cannon fire. The ranks closed over as if nothing had happened, hiding the blackened sand. Loki grit his teeth and prepared another blast, wishing not for the first time that the Chitauri did not possess such unfailing cohesion. If they functioned like the armies that Loki was raised to fight, he could destroy them as Asgard had destroyed the Jotuns, but the Chitauri were unlike anything he had ever seen. They were unlike anything _anyone_ had ever seen.

Natasha's report could not have accurately conveyed the enormity of the force that had come to topple Odessa. It was not even a full legion, and yet the Chitauri's slate grey bodies emerged from the dark horizon in an endless stream. Even with the vanguard reduced to nothing more than stains of tar-like blood, the army covered over half a mile. But it was not their numbers that made fighting the Chitauri so hard. It was the fact that even though it appeared that they were fighting an army of thousands, in reality, they were only fighting one.

A decade ago, Earth had lost Thanatos because they hadn't understood that it didn't matter how many drones they killed. They fought for months against the onslaught coming through the torn Bifrost, but the siege never ended. Loki often wondered how many lives could've been saved if he'd caught on sooner. If he'd stopped pitying himself long enough to _think_ instead of trying to fix his mistake with nothing more than his fists. But by the time a human scientist had thought to study the Chitauri's insect-like physiology, it had been too late. The city was overrun, and the first of many Queens had been brought through the portal to turn a once thriving trade city into nothing more than an alien beehive.

The passage of years had done nothing to alleviate Loki's guilt, and he ordered Lockheart to make the Chitauri burn beneath him. Anything that didn't gleam with magic was a viable target, and flames pushed back against the blackened sky. It didn't matter that the Chitauri were strong—Loki would be stronger.

As Loki fought, so too did the others. Winter continued to slaughter the Chitauri on the ground, and from high above, Clint's dragon fired at the tanks with devastating accuracy. The fourth member of their party was harder to keep track of, though not for a lack of results. Black Widow was the fastest of all dragons, and Natasha darted around the outskirts of the army, culling any squadrons that managed to get past the other riders.

Though the enemy's numbers were vast, it was clear that they had been expecting to take advantage of the lack of riders in Odessa. Their strength came in quantity, not quality, and while a normal tank could take out a dragon if lucky, it was the behemoths that the Chitauri had made specifically to fight dragons that the riders had to fear. Without them, the Chitauri had nothing that could effectively stop the First Corp from decimating their ranks, and they knew it.

The shift was instantaneous: one moment the Chitauri were crawling across crags and cracked earth, taking aim at the dragons, and the next they were retreating towards the horizon, tanks flattening sagebrush. The ground went dark, bereft of igniting gunpowder, and Loki cursed. He tugged on Lockheart's reigns, pulling the dragon out of a dive, and squinted into the darkness. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the moonlight, and when they did, his target was already in motion, fleeing back towards the ruins of Casavala.

Loki spurred Lockheart forwards, but the moment the dragon got into range, it was peppered with bullets coming from the opposite direction. One nearly hit Loki, and he twisted sideways, shielding himself with the dragon's bulk. When the attack eased, he tried to seek out the perpetrators, but many of them had already disappeared into tunnels beneath the sand. Those that remained took advantage of the glowing beacon within Lockheart's chest to pressure Loki back into the sky.

A red light circled around the Chitauri and shot towards Loki, slowing down only when it came within a hundred feet. As Black Widow passed overhead, close enough that Loki had to duck his head, Natasha shouted, “What's your call, General?”

Loki didn't answer immediately. He turned back to the Chitauri, but more than half of them had already vanished into holes hidden in the shadows.

Black Widow swooped back to Loki's side, and without looking at Natasha, Loki said, “They'll be back.”

“They always are,” Natasha answered, steadying her dragon.

“We could pursue them. Take out as many as we can before they regroup.”

Loki's eyes were focused on Steve and Bucky, who continued their assault despite the Chitauri's retreat. Any finesse they had had at the beginning of the battle was now lost, and Winter made an easy target for the Chitauri hiding in the shadows, but that didn't stop them. Despite his small stature, Steve never learned how to back down from a fight, and the Chitauri had ensured that Bucky would never rest while a single one of them still lived.

But while Loki could not begrudge them their tenacity, he also knew that if they continued, it was only a matter of time before something went wrong. Many dragon riders had died, and would continue to die, in battles against drones, and it never got them any closer to ending the invasion.

Knowing exactly what he was thinking, Natasha said, “But we won't.”

Loki sighed, and the wind swept the sound away. “No, we won't.”

Magic gathered in Lockheart's mouth, but instead of firing at the ground, the dragon lifted its head towards the sky. A pillar of green light cut through the night, and Loki held it until Winter disengaged and Hawkeye descended. Then he let the light die and the Chitauri escape.

“I must admit that I'm surprised, boss,” Clint said, pulling Hawkeye into formation at Loki's left. “No one's dying and you're calling off the fight.”

“If you want to be riddled with bullet holes, then by all means, keep attacking them.”

Clint chuckled. “Fair enough.” He shifted in his saddle, stretched his arms over his head, and leaned forwards to watch the emptying horizon. “So what do we do now?”

“We're returning to Midgard. Odessa can mobilize its own army.” Loki turned to Natasha, an order on the tip of his tongue, but he hesitated when he saw her slumped exhaustedly in her saddle. “Barton,” he said instead. “Fly ahead to Odessa and tell them to search the area for tunnels in the morning. Regroup with us when you're finished.”

With a nod, Clint broke away from the formation, and as Hawkeye lurched towards Odessa, Winter took its place. Both Steve and Bucky were easy to see in the vibrant glow of their dragon, and so were their scowls. However, fate must have been on Loki's side, because neither of them questioned his orders. Either that, or they were both as burnt out as he was.

“Let's head back home,” Loki said and guided Lockheart east.

As they flew, the foilage grew less sparse, and the cracked ground became rocky spires. Odessa appeared as a speck to the north. Distance made the city small, but the miles could not completely eliminate the breadth of the citadel. Were they closer, they would have been able to see every brick that made up the twenty-foot wall encircling the city. That wall was the one thing preserving Odessa, keeping out both sandstorms and the Chitauri. However, it was not impervious, and there were places where the stone was different colors, revealing where the Chitauri had broken through. It was for that reason that the city, once a vibrant trade center at the end of the Ekkion River, was almost as lifeless as the desert it bordered. The only ones foolish enough to stay were the soldiers and the dispirited.

Odessa was falling back out of sight when Clint caught up with them. The others shifted out of the way so he could get close enough to report. “They're sending a battalion into the desert to chart and collapse the tunnels.”

Loki nodded, and Hawkeye dropped back to take up the rear. The squadron continued flying in silence, for once not broken by Bucky and Steve's bickering. When Loki glanced over at them, he found that Steve had managed to fall asleep in the saddle, and while Bucky was awake, his mind seemed miles away. To his right, Natasha wasn't faring much better. Her cheek was smushed against a ridged neck-plate, and her goggles were askew on her face.

Loki pushed Lockheart to move faster, and the other dragons complied with or without their rider's input. Soon the desert's hold gave way to lush grasslands and when they crossed Lake Thylain, towering forests stretched for miles. Past the treetops, Midgard appeared before them. The sprawling city was no longer cloaked in rain, and the sun was creeping up over the placid ocean.

“Finally,” Clint muttered, his tired voice nearly inaudible. “I'm gonna eat and then sleep for a year.”

The dragons banked towards the fort, waking the other riders. They pried themselves upright, and once they saw Midgard, they sighed in relief. The city grew larger, spreading out across the coast, and the hangar became distinguishable inside the compound. Lockheart automatically headed towards it, but then Loki caught sight of a plume of smoke rising from the north end of the city.

Without thinking about it, Loki yanked Lockheart back, ending his descent. His actions caught the attention of the rest of the team, and they jerked to a stop, expressions startled. Clint and Bucky scanned the sky and ground, searching for a threat, and Natasha asked, “General?” with all traces of exhaustion gone from her voice. The Second Lieutenant started to pull her helmet back into place, but Loki waved her down.

“It's nothing,” he said, eyes still fixed on the smithy. “Go to the hangar without me. I'll be back in half an hour.”

His words did nothing to ease the others' confusion, but then Steve, glancing between Loki and the hilltop, caught on. “You're going to visit Stark?”

“I'll be back,” Loki reiterated, angling Lockheart upwards. “Get the dragons stabled, and get some rest. Chances are we'll have to head out again this evening.”

With a beat of its wings, Lockheart pulled out of the formation, and Clint asked confusedly, “Stark's that cocky blacksmith who fixed Lockheart, right? What's so special about him?”

Steve said, “When I figure it out, I'll tell you,” before Lockheart flew out of earshot and over the compound wall.

The gilded tips of the dragon's wings nearly touched the rooftops as it passed over the city. People were already filling the streets, using the first stirrings of sunlight to go about their business, and they paused as Lockheart went by. Loki could see them point at him and talk amongst themselves, though the words were lost to him. He didn't need to hear them to know what they were saying, however. The last time the people of Midgard had gotten a good look at Loki was when he was half-dead on a wagon. Despite the military's assurances that he was fine, rumors had spread that he had died that day. After all, it was unheard of for an Aesir to take so long to recover. What they didn't know—couldn't know—was that Loki was the farthest thing from an Aesir.

Smoke blotted out Loki's vision, and Lockheart swooped into the road, landing as quietly as possible outside of the smithy. The precaution was unnecessary, however, as the sound of metal hitting metal was reverberating through the stone. As Loki approached the open window, he could hear frustrated muttering intermingled with the slam of a hammer.

To announce his presence, Lockheart stuck his head halfway through the open window. A second passed, and then a startled shriek pierced the morning air. Something clattered to the floor, followed by a loud thump, and Loki grinned. With a pat on Lockheart's neck, he urged the dragon away from the window, and from within the smithy, Stark incredulously exclaimed, “Did you _see_ that?”

Someone sighed and asked “What did you do this time?” as footsteps rapidly approached the door.

“I didn't _do_ anything,” Stark retorted. The door rattled as it was shoved open, and the blacksmith stormed out. “Alright, why the-”

Stark cut himself off and came to an abrupt halt, his nose mere inches from Lockheart's. Every muscle on the man's bare chest went taut, and he reached for his hip as if there was a weapon there. His fingers closed on empty air. Then he saw Loki, smirking from atop the dragon, and his body relaxed even as his scowl deepened.

“What the hell, man?” There was a pause. “...It is 'man' this time, right?”

“Of course,” Loki said, his smile growing harsher. “I could prove it to you, if you'd like.”

“While that sounds fun, I think I'll have to pass you up on your offer,” Stark replied, leaning against the door frame.

Metal peeled away from the Loki's legs, and he grabbed onto Lockheart's reigns as he slid from the saddle. Once he was stable, he let go of the dragon and sauntered towards Stark. The man crossed his arms across his chest, like he wasn't half a foot shorter than Loki, and blocked half the entrance. Loki darted around him to enter through the other half.

“Wha- You're not allowed in there!” Stark spun towards Loki, perhaps thinking that he could physically haul the general out, but he had to return to the door when Lockheart attempted to follow them in. “Hey, you overstayed your welcome last time, metal for brains,” the blacksmith said, spreading his arms across the threshold and digging in his heels.

Lockheart pawed at the ground, and steam hissed from its pipes in a facsimile of an annoyed huff, but Stark refused to budge. Loki turned away just at the dragon switched tactics to headbutting, and his eyes fell on the other person in the smithy. There was something familiar about the man, and it took Loki a moment to realize why. He had a lot more gray hairs than he had when Loki last saw him, and his face was more wrinkled, but it was definitely the same person.

“Private Banner. I didn't know that you'd moved to Midgard.”

The ex-rider blinked at Loki, and then a small smile curled the corners of his mouth. “It's been a long time since someone's called me that.”

“Wait a second,” Stark said, giving up on fending off Lockheart. “Bruce, you're friends with this jerk?”

“No need to feel jealous, Stark. Private Banner was one of the first members of the Dragon Corp. We inevitably met a few times.”

Banner rubbed the back of his head. “I'm surprised that you still remember me.”

“Yes, well,” Loki grinned wryly, “you made yourself quite unforgettable.”

The story of Bruce Banner was popular in the training barracks, and the recruits spoke of it half in awe and half in fear. 'Have you heard,' they would say, 'that one time a dragon got so out of control it destroyed a city?' Of course, many of the renditions were greatly exaggerated: Banner hadn't flattened Harlem, and only two people had been injured before the beserking dragon could be subdued. Still, the story left its mark, and it served as an important reminder as to why very few people were able to be dragon riders.

Banner ducked his head and chuckled softly. “I guess I did.”

Growing tired of not being the center of attention, Stark crossed his arms and demanded, “Why are you here, Loki? Surely you didn't come at the crack of dawn just to share old war stories.”

Smirking, Loki turned to the man. “I'm sorry. Is my presence bothering you?”

“Uhh, yeah. It is. I was in the middle of something important.”

Loki followed the man's gaze to the cooling forge and half-hammered sheet of metal. It was the latter object that captured the general's attention, and he sidestepped Stark to reach it. Hot iron stung his fingertips as he lifted the plate from the floor, but no matter which way he turned it, he couldn't discern what it was meant to be.

No longer interested, Loki placed the metal on the anvil and went to the desk, where a mask sat on top of a pair of gauntlets. Loki picked it up, ignoring Stark's belligerent, “Hey!” and traced the eye holes with his fingers. He then flipped it over to inspect the latches on either side of the forehead.

The craftsmanship of the helmet confirmed what Loki had suspected, and he set it down as he announced, “Lockheart sustained minor damages during a battle and needs to be repaired.”

“So? That's not my job.”

“Nor was changing my dragon's designs, but that didn't seem to stop you.” Stark went still, and Loki glanced over his shoulder at the man. “Did you honestly think that I wouldn't notice? One doesn't need to be a blacksmith to know a ball-joint from a gear.”

Banner snickered, and Stark shot him an indignant look. Then he faced Loki and raised his chin. “Yeah, I changed it. The original design was trash.” He stared Loki down, clearly asking, 'You gonna fight me about it?'

Loki had no interest in punishing the blacksmith, not when Lockheart currently maneuvered better than he had on the day he was created. “You're right,” he said instead. “The dragon's are outdated compared to the Chitauri's technology. That's why I'm putting you in charge of Lockheart's maintenance.”

Stark's jaw dropped, and when he realized Loki wasn't joking, he choked out, “ _What_?”

“I'll pay you, of course. It'll be well worth your time.”

Intending to turn back to Stark with a flourish, Loki pushed away from the table, but his hip had gotten stiff. He stumbled, and when he tried to steady himself, his hand smacked into the desk. The mask, placed near the edge, teetered and fell onto the floor. Loki silently cursed his newfound disability and stepped away from the desk, eyes darting to his audience in embarrassment.

Thankfully, it seemed that Stark was too riled to take note of Loki's blunder. The blacksmith stalked over to the mask, picked it up, and roughly scrubbed specks of dirt from the metal. When it once again met his satisfaction, he jabbed it at Loki and said, “I signed a one time deal, Goggles. I have more important things to do than fix your lump of bolts.”

“Then clear your schedule. The Dragon Corp is second to no one.” Deeming the argument over, Loki sauntered towards the exit, though he paused at the threshold. “I'm glad to see that you've been doing well, Private,” he said, and only at Banner's nod did he squeeze past Lockheart and into the street.

Stark, however, had a stubborn streak that rivaled Steve's, and he followed on Loki's heels. “I told you, I'm not fixing your blasted dragon!”

“You will,” Loki said confidently, motioning for Lockheart to unfurl his wings. The canvas snapped as the limbs stretched out to the sides and scrapped the edge of the smithy. Loki hauled himself into the saddle. “You have an hour to prepare your supplies. After that, I expect to see you at the hangar.”

Lockheart bent his legs, the motion far smoother than it used to be, and leapt into the air. To avoid being pummeled by the dragon's wings, Stark retreated under the awning, but the second Lockheart passed the rooftop, he stepped out and shouted, “Damn it, Loki! I didn't agree to anything!”

The only response he got was a laugh that tugged on the scar around the general's mouth.


	5. Chapter 5

A bang reverberated down the street as the smithy door was flung open with enough force to hit the wall, and then it rebounded, setting of a litany of curses. Tony tried to nurse his throbbing nose while elbowing his way out of the building. “Infernal door,” he muttered around the glove in his mouth and stumbled into the road.

Dusk had fallen on Midgard, and only a few people remained on the guild's street. Those who did paused their activities to watch as Tony hopped around, attempting to both get his arm into his jacket and close the door. When he succeeded in kicking the door shut, someone called, “Who are you trying to woo this time, Stark? The governor or that new rider of yours?”

Tony whipped around to face the speaker and scowled at the sight of their smirk. “Shut up, Hammer,” he said, though the glove made his words intelligible. He spat it out and reiterated, “No one thinks you're amusing.”

It was a rare day when Tony wasted time bickering with the lesser known blacksmith—who, quite frankly, did horrendous work—and today he was even less inclined. He parted from the man with an obscene gesture and sprinted down the road. For the first block, his speed was hindered by his efforts to put on the second glove without running into anyone, but when he at last got each finger in the right place, he ran as fast as his legs would take him.

As he neared the bar district, the amount of people increased and the gas lamps lining the roads were lit. His breath started coming out in harsh pants, but he didn't slow. He spun around the corner, nearly crashed into a laughing gaggle of women, and finally came into view of Da Vinci's.

The large restaurant dominated the end of the road. Its sculpted columns standing out from the wooden beams of the shops to either side, and coaches lined the street, depositing their passengers before pulling away towards a side road. The patrons entering it were considerably better dressed than those who frequented the bars a block south. Bustle skirts, top hats, and golden accents were ubiquitous among the civilians, and the few soldiers in the crowd wore decorated uniforms.

Eyes passing over the pomp that he himself was a part of, Tony sought out one figure in particular. A part of him dared to hope that his companion hadn't arrived yet, but then he caught sight of a familiar carriage parked across from Da Vinci's. He groaned as he slowed to a stop, ending up beneath a light post outside the restaurant's double doors.

Figuring that he was late either way, Tony leaned against the metal pole and took a moment to catch his breath. He was dismayed to find that he was almost as sweaty as he had been before he bathed, and his suit clung to his skin. Trying to hide the evidence of his cross town sprint, Tony slicked his hair back into place. The damp jacket was harder to fix, but he did what he could to air it out before turning to the crowded entrance. Then Tony put his most charming grin in place and sauntered towards the open doors.

It was lighter inside the restaurant, but just barely. Candles flickered on each of the many tables, and intricate chandeliers hung from the high ceiling. Tony used the flickering light to navigate through the tables and up the winding stairwell in the back. The second floor was still crowded, but it was free of parties waiting to be seated, and he easily made his way back to the reserved tables.

His devil-may-care attitude lasted up until he caught sight of fiery red hair and disappointed green eyes. Pepper was sitting with her back to the wall, and her fingers tapped threateningly against her wine glass as Tony approached.

"Would you forgive me if I said that I was working for the military?" he asked, slowing to a stop a safe distance away.

Pepper’s only response was a raised eyebrow, and Tony sighed. “Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t accept that excuse. Was worth a try though.”

For a moment, the intensity of Pepper’s gaze remained the same, but then she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t say I’m surprised that you’re late. At least this time you managed to show up.”

“Hey now, give me more credit than that. I’ve only missed our meetings once, maybe twice.” Tony pulled out the chair and sat across from her. He took in the sight of Pepper, her curled hair falling around a lace-lined neck and her arms clad in burgundy, like a drowning man. “How long has it been, Pep? Three months?"

"Nearly four," Pepper answered, studying him with the same intensity. When she seemed satisfied with what she saw, she leaned back in her chair and took a long sip of wine. "Honestly, I don't even have the time for this, but I had to see you again. I worry that if someone doesn't look after you, you'll let yourself waste away again.”

When Pepper gave him a sad smile, her exhaustion showed through the layers of makeup, and Tony frowned. “I don't think I'm the one you should be worried about right now. Is the situation really that bad? You've always gotten us through rough spots in the past."

"And I'll get us through now," Pepper stated, determination overlaying the weariness. Not for the first time, Tony admired the fact that she could keep an entire city afloat while the world was going to pieces. "It's just going to take time. With so many refugees pouring into Midgard, our food supply is stretched to the limit. Not to mention the lack of space is inciting riots in the outer districts. An elf was nearly killed by an angry mob last week."

"Can you not send them to Avalon? Or Kvenland? Surely the Aesir have enough resources to share, and they at least don't discriminate with their hatred of us 'lesser' races.”

An angry scowl split Pepper's face, its vehemence all the more apparent in its rarity. "That's exactly why I can't send to them for help. They call themselves gods, and yet they sit around in self-pity while we fight the war they started. If the Bifrost still worked, I'd tell their king exactly what I think of him."

Despite the direction the conversation had turned—or, perhaps, because of it—Tony chuckled. "Miss Potts lecturing the untouchable All Father? Now that's something I'd like to see."

The harsh contours of Pepper's expression eased just as a harried waitress approached their table. They both turned to face her, and she gave them a strained but genuine smile. “I was wondering when you were going to show up, Mr. Stark.” She turned to Pepper. “May I take your order now, Governor Potts?"

Pepper nodded. “I'll have the stuffed cucumbers with potato gratin,” she said as she handed her menu over.

The waitress wrote it down and turned to Tony, whose menu sat untouched next to him. He gathered it with a shrug. “I'll have what she's having and a glass of ale."

“Yes, sir,” the waitress said. “Can I get you anything else?”

They both shook their heads, and the waitress hurried on to her next table. After she was gone, Pepper picked the conversation up again, this time without the scathing tone. "What about you? From what I’ve heard, you’ve actually been going head to head with an Aesir.”

Tony was groaning before she finished speaking. “Who told you about that?”

“Rhodey,” Pepper answered, and Tony groaned again. Of course Rhodes was the one to rat him out. “So it’s true then? You’re really fighting with the General?”

"You could put it that way, though honestly it’s not that exciting. Normally I just end up shouting at Loki while he completely ignores everything I say.”

The mere of thought of Loki’s smug dismissal made Tony’s blood boil. He grabbed his glass of ice water, wished that it was ale, and chugged it down. The table shuddered when he set the empty cup back down.

Pepper watched his little show with a raised eyebrow, and then the corners of her lips curled upwards. “If you hate it so much, why don't you quit? The Tony Stark I know would never let some big brass bully him into something he doesn’t want to do.”

It took Tony a moment to understand what Pepper and her knowing smirk were suggesting.

"Woah, no. I am not working on Lockheart because I like Loki. Loki is-" Tony waved his hands, trying futilely to encompass the vast amounts of frustration that came with the general. "He’s _unbearable_. I never know if he’s flirting with me, or wanting to sic the dragon on me, or what.”

“Then why do you stay?” Pepper asked, though judging by the fact that her smirk remained, she hadn’t dismissed her previous notion.

“Those dragons are outdated. It’d be a crime to leave them that way,” Tony insisted. “People praise my father for his work on them, but he had to have been drunk to make them so inefficient.” He snorted unpleasantly. “It’s no wonder that his dragon got his dumb ass killed. And now Loki seems convinced to do the same. He almost died two months ago—any reasonable person would take that as a sign to stop.”

“Like you're one to talk,” Pepper said, looking pointedly at the thin white scar nearly hidden by Tony's hairline.

“I haven't caught the smithy on fire in months,” Tony defended. “But seriously, you should see Lockheart. That dragon has become a work of art. The only downside is the ridiculous hours Loki enforces. I bet that office of yours has been really quiet these days now that I have no free time.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “I do more than listen to complaints about your behavior, Tony, though I won't deny that it's a blessing not having to manage you, too. Still, I wish I get to hear more about what you've been up to. How's that armor of yours going?”

A wide grin stretched across Tony's lips. “Amazing. You think that the dragons are awe-inspiring? Wait until you see my suit. I've only finished the top half, but when I'm done, it'll be able to fly and take out any Chitauri weapon. Who cares that I don't have the magic needed to power a dragon? With my suit, I'll be even stronger."

“It does sound formidable,” Pepper said. “I look forwards to seeing it. Though I must admit that I'm surprised you're not interested in the Chitauri's steam engines. They don't require magic and can still power vehicles larger than ours."

"So? Tanks and trains aren't going to win this war. What we need to focus on is eradicating the Queens, not continuing useless battles against the drones.”

Pepper shook her head. "Things aren't as simple as that. As much as we want it to, this war won't end in a few months. What we need to focus on is keeping ourselves alive in the long run, and that means better transports to keep the city fed. I've been watching Eskrine's progress on the train and can't wait for it to be finished."

“You... have a good point,” Tony admitted. “But I'd still rather make weapons. At least then the results are obvious.”

A plate slid in front of Tony, and he started, not having realized that the waitress had returned. She set another plate down in front of Pepper and wiped her palm on her uniform. “Anything else I can get you?” she asked, already backing towards the stairs.

“No thank you,” Pepper said, and the waitress was gone. This time, the conversation didn't resume immediately. Instead, they both turned to their food, and Tony quickly realized he was famished. He dug in, making quick work of his potato gratin, while Pepper ate at a more sedated pace.

When she was half way done, Pepper set down her fork. “It really has been nice seeing you again, Tony. These days, it's hard to find a reason to keep fighting, you know? I just wish I had more time for moments like this.”

“You will eventually,” Tony replied earnestly. “Just you wait. Once my suit is finished, I'm going to take down Thanatos and finally close those portals.”

“I'll hold you to that,” Pepper said softly as she picked up her fork. The next time she spoke was when her plate was clear.

“As much as I've enjoyed our dinner,” she said, pushing her hair over her shoulder and reaching for her chatelaine purse, “I can't stay any longer. I have multiple meetings tomorrow, and food rations need to be finished before storm season.”

“I wish I could say that I wasn't in a similar situation,” Tony said, rising from his seat. “Loki's squad is leaving first thing in the morning, and he wants Lockheart's gears to be sanded before then.”

They walked from the crowded restaurant and towards the carriages. Pepper's was still in the same place, though this time, there was a man next to it. He was leaning against the wooden frames, his eyes squinting at everyone walking down the street. When they approached, his attention snapped to them, and he straightened.

“Governor Potts,” he greeted, tilting his head in her direction. “Mr. Stark.”

“I thought I told you not to be so formal with me, Happy,” Tony said, clapping the man on the shoulder. “Two men cannot spend a night trapped in a wine cellar together and not be on a first name basis.”

“Calling you by your first name would be unprofessional. And don't call me 'Happy' when I'm on duty. It ruins the image.” Happy shifted his tie and puffed out his chest, which did nothing to make him seem intimidating. He turned proudly towards Pepper. “I kept the area secure for you. There were a few suspicious individuals loitering around, but I scared them off.”

Pepper sighed and shared a bemused look with Tony. They both knew that said 'suspicious individuals' were probably just people trying to run their evening errands. “Thanks, Harold. Can you bring me home now?”

“Sure thing, Governor.” The bodyguard-cum-driver strode to the front of the carriage to check the horses' harnesses. As he was doing that, Pepper asked Tony, “Would you like a ride home?”

Glancing down at the barren, dimly lit roads, Tony offered a halfhearted protest. “You live in the opposite direction from me.”

“It doesn't matter. I'll be glad for the extra time to talk.”

Tony relented and followed Pepper into the back of the carriage. Up front, Happy had finished inspecting the horses and climbed into the coachman's seat. He glanced back at them and raised an eyebrow when he saw Tony sitting beside Pepper. “Is he coming back to your house?”

“What? _No_ ,” Pepper said indignantly. “We're taking him back to the smithy.”

Happy held up the hand that wasn’t holding the reins in surrender. “I wasn't trying to make any assumptions. Just saying it wouldn't be a surprise if you two wanted to do,” he made a vaguely obscene gesture, “ _that_ again.”

“That was in the past,” Pepper said, “and that’s where it’ll stay.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Happy gave her a sloppy salute and urged the horses forwards. The carriage jolted into motion, but after a few feet, the motion smoothed in a steady roll.

Breathing out slowly, Pepper faced away from Tony. However, he didn’t need to see her face to read the tightness in her body and know that Happy’s insinuation had upset her. He understood how she was feeling: a few years ago, their relationship had been going great. Everyone thought that they would get married, move in together, and finally settle down. But while the notion seemed grand, they both found that in practice, it wasn’t what they wanted. Pepper already faced fierce opposition to her career, and as a married woman, it would have only gotten worse. For Tony, the intimacy of a committed relationship had made him feel exposed in a way that he couldn’t tolerate.

They had lasted a year before Pepper called it off. Tony wished that he could say he regretted it, but in the end, she deserved better than him, and he... Well, he’s always found it easier to lie with strangers.

Despite Pepper’s statement that they could use the carriage ride to talk, she remained quiet as they traveled through the city. Tony fumbled for something that would break the silence, and at last he said, “Tell me more about your work. What are your meetings about?”

There was a moment of silence, and then Pepper's shoulders slowly relaxed. “The first one is with the city architects,” she said, turning to face him. “We've been wanting to expand the northern districts but haven't had to materials to spare. Now though we might be able to do it if we make a deal with the dwarves. They're offering supplies and labor in exchange for more soldiers to reinforce the routes to Muspelheim. After that, I'm settling two port disputes, renewing our trade contract with Broughton, and meeting with the governor of Albesaa.”

“Sounds like an exciting day,” Tony said blithely, and Pepper smiled.

“It's not the worst I've had.”

The carriage abruptly started to slow, and when Tony glanced out the window, he was disappointed to see that they had arrived at his smithy. A part of him was hoping that Happy would keep driving, but the horses came to a stop, and he sighed.

“I guess this is goodbye for now,” Tony said, his hand reaching for the door but not opening it. “Send a messenger my way next time you're not working, alright?”

“I will,” Pepper promised.

Tony hesitated another second before pushing the door open. He stepped into the night and, with one last wave to Pep and Happy, walked across the street. The carriage pulled away as he slid his key into the lock and pushed the door open.

Inside the smithy, the only sign of life was the lone candle burning on Bruce's desk. Tony walked to it, fetching a lantern on the way. Once the gas lamp was ignited, he pinched the shrinking wick and headed towards his own workspace.

Before he got there, the gleam of silver caught Tony's eye, and he stopped. The pieces of his suit were shoved into a pile far from the forge, pushed aside to make space for Lockheart's gears. When Tony went to them and ran his fingers along the curved metal, dust clung to the white of his gloves.

'Soon,' he thought as he lifted the mask from the top of the pile and rubbed its surface clean. 'Soon I'll be able to end this the damn war.'

Tony held the mask in the air, shifting it to see if any dust remained, and his distorted reflection stared back at him. He met its eyes, and then with a sigh, he set the mask down. His feet brought him away from his suit and to his desk, where there were pieces of a dragon that, no matter how fascinated he was with, he'd never be able to control.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Cotton slid against metal as Natasha tightened Black Widow's saddle bags. After she yanked the straps as far as they could go and could no longer slide her fingers beneath, she buckled them down and gave the fidgeting dragon a firm pat. Eager, Black Widow flared its wings and tensed its legs, making the gears whir and the pistons hiss.

As Natasha mounted, her eyes slid to her partner, but he was not as focused as she was. Instead of tending to his dragon, he was leaning against it while blatantly staring at the figures across the yard. They didn't notice the attention, however, too wrapped up in their own conversation.

While a part of Natasha was inclined to copy Clint's actions, she knew that there were more pressing matters to tend to. “Clint,” she called, guiding Black Widow closer to Hawkeye, “we need to get moving.”

Clint glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, but he remained where he was. After a half-belligerent, half-delighted shout drifted over to their ears, Clint said, "Honestly, I don't know whether to be amused or nauseated. That Stark fellow has the General acting like a dame."

Natasha leaned forward against her dragon's neck and arched an eyebrow. "Perhaps that's because Loki is, in fact, a 'dame'."

Clint rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Do I?" Natasha asked. Her eyes bore into the side of Clint's head, and he raised his hands in surrender.

"Alright, sorry. Poor choice of wording. Not dame. Ain't anything wrong with being a woman. Loki's acting lovesick is all I'm trying to say. Her and Stark both."

A shift in the wind made indecipherable noises into words, and both Natasha and Clint quieted to hear them.

"...return tomorrow to fix it," Loki said as she circled Lockheart.

Stark watched the General from his perch next to the equipment shed. He repetitively tossed his top hat into the air as he replied, "I fixed that leg two days ago. Reckless idiot. I'm starting to think you like having me here."

Loki came to a stop and looked over her shoulder at the man. "Don't flatter yourself, blacksmith, or I'll hire someone else."

Stark laughed, missing his top hat on its way back down from a careless toss. Abandoning it in the dirt, he said, "Do you really think that'll bother me? Or is your memory as faulty as that scrap heap of yours?"

Though the ocean breeze died down, taking with it teasing words, Loki and Stark's actions filled the gap. The General stalked over to Stark and scooped the hat off the ground. When Stark tried to reach for it, Loki raised it high and twirled away, a smirk prominent on her lips. She continued to smirk even as Stark leapt down from the barrel and stormed over to her.

"I think you might need to revise your definition of 'lovesick,'" Natasha said as Stark came to a stop before Loki, their chests practically touching, and grabbed for the previously undesired hat. Loki used her height to her advantage and held the hat far over her head. Stark's frustrated shout was audible even without the wind.

Clint shrugged. “Maybe. But then again, you and I acted like that at one point.” He turned back towards her with a lopsided grin. “Look where we are now."

The corners of Natasha's lips curled up softly. It was a subtle shift, one that many couldn't distinguish from her usual face, but Clint saw and answered in turn. For a brief moment, they reveled in each others' attention, and then Natasha looked away.

She shoved away from Black Widow's neck and settled into the saddle. With a stern tug on the dragon's reigns, she guided it away from Hawkeye. "Let's go," she said as her dragon spread its slender wings.

Clint delayed for a second, his attention wandering back to the scuffle happening at the stable, before following her lead. His joking persona was put aside as he leapt onto Hawkeye and pulled goggles over his head. Only thin-pressed lips were visible as the dragons rose from the ground with the ease of a well-oiled machine.

Stark and Loki faded into nothing more than specks, and then they weren't visible at all. The dragons went southwest towards the desert.

Over the years, the Chitauri had done to the land what it had done to its people; what had once been steppe and savannah was now as arid and brittle as bone. The only signs of life in the cracked wastes west of Odessa were the vultures circling overhead, searching for corpses to feast on. Human, elf, Chitauri- their appetite discriminated against none.

“Hold up,” Clint said abruptly, raising his arm and yanking Hawkeye to a stop.

Black Widow flew past him then circled around to his side. For once, the desert wasn't howling, and Natasha didn't have to raise her voice to ask, “What do you see?"

"A tunnel," Clint answered. “And a large one at that.”

Natasha squinted her eyes against the glare of the sun against the sand, but even then, she couldn't see the tunnel Clint spoke of. All she saw were the windblown rocks and desecrated battlefields. Still, she didn't hesitate to draw her gun from its halter as they descended.

It wasn't until they were a few hundred feet above the ground that Natasha saw what had caught Clint's keen eyes: there was a hole in the parched earth, partially hidden by the butte that towered over it. It's diameter was seven, maybe eight feet across, and the sides were caked with a thick brown paste. When the wind followed the curvature of a dune up from the ground, Natasha covered her nose against the all too familiar stench of Chitauri dung.

The dragons landed softly on either side of the tunnel. Clint remained on Hawkeye while Natasha dismounted, and as she slowly approached the opening, he stood watch.

"Have there been any sandstorms in this area since the one earlier this month?" Natasha asked as she leaned over the edge and peered into the darkness. With a grimace, she crouched down and ran her hand along the hardened dung supporting to tunnel. It remained unbroken even when she smacked the heel of her palm into it.

"Not that I've heard of."

Natasha nodded and wiped her fingers through the sand, though she knew it'd not remove the stench. "The lining is still intact. They must have built this after the army collapsed the tunnels outside Odessa." She turned towards the city, but all she could see were the mesas that stretched between Odessa and Albatyn. “Surely a patrol would have noticed a tunnel this large.”

"Think that goes to Casavala?" Clint asked, but before Natasha could answer, his head darted to the side. She frowned as he squinted into the distance.

"What is it?"

"Not sure." Clint leaned over Hawkeye's back until he was almost out of the saddle. "It's too far away.” He slid back onto the dragon and gears locked his legs in. Turning to her, he said, “I'm going to go check it out. What about you?"

"I'll stay here and see what direction this tunnel heads. Collapse it if I can.”

Clint nodded. "Be careful. We're here to investigate, not fight the war alone."

At Natasha's nod, Hawkeye rose from the ground in a maelstrom of dust. Once he was clear of the ground, Natasha scrubbed the grit from her eyes and turned towards her dragon. From inside of Black Widow's saddle bags she withdrew a bandana, lantern, compass, and stick of dynamite.

After lighting the lantern and tying the bandana around her mouth and nose, Natasha went to the edge of the hole and, after checking one last time that the coast was clear, ventured into the tunnel. Sand crunched underfoot for a couple of steps before giving way into brittle dung and mud. The floor angled downwards for over three dozen feet, and then it leveled off. The tunnel stretched indefinitely into the darkness.

The sunlight at Natasha's back faded, leaving only her lantern to reveal the faint traces of three-pronged footprints in the scattered debris. She leaned down to investigate the marks, tightened her grip on the dynamite, and continued deeper into the tunnel.

From the surface, one could never have guessed the complexity and vastness of the Chitauri's underground fortresses. But once inside, the scope of the enemy became daunting. Pathways split in dozens of different directions, and Natasha knew that if she wandered down them, they'd never end. It always reminded her of the story of Theseus and the Minotaur, but she couldn't decide whether or not she was the monster or the hero in this version of the story.

As she walked, Natasha kept her footsteps quiet and light low. The tunnels were empty now, but she knew that could change in a split second. If the Chitauri found her down here, she'd need all the advantages she could get to outrun them.

Natasha passed a small alcove filled with chitin flakes, torn cotton, and rat bones. Beyond it, there were at least ten more nests that she could see, but she knew that there were hundreds, if not thousands, more in this mound alone.

It became clear to Natasha that she had gone too far in, and she came to a stop. Had she come with a extermination party, she could have traveled further, but alone, she was more likely to become a meal to the Chitauri than an executioner.

Natasha crouched down and held the dynamite's wick up the the lantern's flame. As she worked, she listened carefully for any life within the tunnels. Thankfully, the only sound was the dynamite sizzling in her hands.

Natasha rose swiftly to her feet and, with a powerful throw, hurled the explosive deeper into the tunnels. Its flickering light illuminated a human skull half-buried in one of the nests, and when Natasha caught sight of the remains, her stomach twisted.

'If only for this story,' she finally decided, 'I am the hero. Someone else gets to be the monster.'

Then she turned around and ran as fast as she could. The dynamite vanished behind twisting corridors, but that hardly assured her safety. She pushed her legs as hard as should could, not caring how much noise she made. A few Chitauri she could handle. Burying herself alive, however, was another matter.

Far too soon, the dynamite reached the end of its fuse, and the resulting explosion shook Natasha down to her bones. Her knees gave out beneath her, and she smacked hard into the heaving earth. A groan was forced from her lungs, but it was lost in the sound of shattering glass and the distant shrieks Chitauri. The tunnels were coming down, crushing those unfortunate enough to be at the epicenter.

For a moment, as chunks of dried dung fell all around her, Natasha was convinced that she was one of those unfortunates. But then the tunnels finally stilled, leaving the rider with nothing worse than bruised bones.

Without the light of the lantern to orientate her, it took Natasha a moment to remember how her limbs worked. Her arms protested as they pushed her upwards, and her legs felt gelatinous. But at last, with all of her concentration, she managed to stand. She didn't stay standing for long.

One second she was stooping down to pick up her broken lantern, and the next, she was on her back with the air knocked from her lungs. A Chitauri towered over her, and before she could move, it caged her against the ground with its body. A scaly hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed.

“What are you doing here?” the creature hissed, its voice lisping over the rows of needle-like teeth that protruded from beneath its mandibles. “No one is supposed to be here.”

Gasping for breath, Natasha shoved her head against the ground. Air leaked into her lungs, but before her body was satisfied, the Chitauri tightened its grip. Natasha's fingers scrambled to open the holster on her waist as black spots eroded the world. The latch refused to budge.

'Not now,' she begged. 'Of all the times to get stuck, please not now.' Her chest burned as if it was on fire, and the holster that she had been promised was top of the line continued to spite her.

'Useless.' Natasha's lips curled as she abandoned her efforts. She wrapped her hands around the Chitauri's wrist. Nails dug into the fleshy gaps between its shell.

The alien reared back and tried to use its other hand against her, but Natasha was faster. She utilized the opening that it had created to slam her knee into the space between their bodies. Then, with the Chitauri as her springboard, she flung herself away and onto her stomach.

Natasha allowed herself one full breath before she was in motion again. Her fingers dug into the rigged frass, and as the Chitauri tried to pin her again, she clawed her way onto her knees. There was a squelch as she slammed her elbow into the insectoid's protruding eye.

Normally when a Chitauri was wounded, it made no noise. It didn't need to; drones felt no pain. Knights, however, were special, and as Natasha finally pried her holster open with both hands, her opponent let loose a frantic series of clicks and hisses that she had come to associate with screaming.

Three ridged fingers gripped the back of Natasha's uniform as she lurched to her feet, and she barely managed to grab her gun as she was yanked backwards. She twisted around to face the Chitauri, but the instant she shot into the darkness, she knew that she had missed.

An arm caught Natasha across the chest, nearly knocking her down again, but this time she bore the weight. With a deep groan, she lifted the alien into the air as and tossed it behind her. Then, before it could regain its wits, she shot at rustling in the dark.

An outraged hiss confirmed that she had hit her target, but judging by the frantic movements, she had only wounded it. She leveled her gun to fire again, but when she pulled the trigger, the gun did nothing but click. In the darkness, everything went silent.

Natasha knew that the knight was still there, watching her. She felt its keen eyes raise the hair on her arms, and its peculiar stench- a mixture of gunpowder, frass, and blood -wafted through her nose. She cautiously knelt to drop her gun and slid a knife from her boot. Then, in an effort to draw the knight out, she said, “Even if you kill me, you won’t protect your Queen. My partner has already flown back to Midgard. He’ll tell everyone that she's here.”

 

The knight didn't respond, and when it lunged at her again, Natasha failed to dodge completely. Its arm smacked into her forehead, making her stumble, but she recovered quickly. Her arm ensnared the alien, but though the rider was far from weak, she was slowly overpowered by brute force.

'This ends now.'

Natasha rotated the knife in her fingers. With the hilt now firmly in hand, she jabbed the blade as hard as she could into her opponent. Thick, black blood oozed over rough chitin and onto Natasha's skin.

Even as the Chitauri wailed in its peculiar way, it continued its efforts to kill Natasha. Her head smacked into the wall as she was shoved backwards, and her knife tore loose. The Chitauri hit her again, making her vision erupt with light and her ears ring. But as it made to hit her a third time, she ducked.

Instead of slamming the knife into whatever she could reach, Natasha aimed for the source of her foe's furious chittering. The first strike slid across chitin with a dull sound, but the second hit home with a horrendous squelch.

At once the hiss became a gurgle, and the Chitauri staggered backwards. Natasha went with it and they both toppled to the ground. Straddling the alien with her legs, Natasha twisted the knife, tore it out, and brought it down again. Something popped beneath her blade. The Chitauri went silent.

Breathing harshly, Natasha slid off the alien and dragged herself towards the wall. She put her head between her knees, but her pose did little to quell her nausea. Blood oozed down her forehead towards her eyes.

At some point during the fight, Natasha's bandana had fallen from her face and was now nestled above her collar bones. She untied it, wiped the blood off her face, and held it to the cut above her eye. Inside her chest, her heart continued to thrum with adrenaline. She had killed the knight, but only time could tell when another Chitauri would find her. However, when she tried to stand, the world tilted sharply. If it wasn't for the arm that rested on the wall, she would have fallen flat on her face.

With a groan, Natasha sunk back to the ground. The hand holding the bandana fell limply beside her, and she rested her brow against the wall. It was testament to how tired she was that she didn't even wrinkle her nose as the stench of insect waste flooded her nostrils.

A few minutes passed before Natasha tried to stand again. Each movement was painfully slow, and she waited for the ground to stop tilting before abandoning the wall. Then she shuffled around with half-steps, infinitely glad that her teammates weren't there to witness her nearly fall over her lantern.

It was a miracle that the broken light still had enough fuel in it to spark, though the flame flickered sadly in the cracked glass. Still, it was enough for Natasha to inspect the corpse at her feet, and her worry that the knight still lived was alleviated when she saw the results of her finishing blow: her blade had gone straight through the knight's eye and into its brain.

Other than the stab wound, there wasn't much to see: the knight was completely unarmed, and its only adornment was the thick stripe of dry, white mud that ran down the center of its shell. Those two details, however, were enough to tell Natasha plenty, and while she couldn't fathom why a knight from Thanatos was on diplomatic business so far east, she knew Loki would be interested.

Natasha turned her attention to the tunnel the knight had come from. It branched away from the one she had come through, and a quick glance at her compass indicated that it went north, towards the battlefieds.

Satisfied with her findings, Natasha tore her knife from the body and made her way out of the Chitauri stink hole. It took less than half a mile of walking for the lantern to die, and when it did, Natasha left it behind. She didn't need it; she could feel a draft coming from the exit, and she let it guide her through the remaining corridors. At last she saw sunlight ahead and picked up her pace.

When she was still over a hundred feet away from the exit, a dark shape appeared abruptly at the tunnel's mouth. Its outline was jagged, shifting. Alien. She slowed, but it was already too late; she had been heard. The Chitauri stepped closer.

There was no way for Natasha to go but forwards. She gripped the knife tightly, tensed her muscles, and ran. Already she knew where she'd strike. Go for the jugular. If that was blocked, then go for the intestines. Stick the knife in between the fifth and sixth ridge of the abdomen, where the most important organs were. If that failed, go for the-

“ _Woah_ ,” the figure shouted as she prepared to lunge, knife raised parallel with her head. “It's just me, Nat!”

Natasha blinked and dug her heels into the ground. The knife lowered. “ _Clint_?”

“Of course,” Clint said, stepping closer with his arms out to the side. Now that he was no longer silhouetted by the sun, it was obvious that he wasn't a Chitauri. It was an embarrassing mistake to have made. “Who else were you expecting?” Then he caught sight of the blood, and his eyes widened.

Before Clint could fret, Natasha said, “It's fine. I handled it.” She continued walking, her shoulder brushing against his as she passed. Sunlight at last touched her skin, and strong winds blew fresh air into her lungs. She soaked it in.

Black Widow, who had been lying in wait on the top of the butte, leapt down and bounded over to Natasha. It nudged her arm with its narrow snout, and Natasha gratefully accepted the support.

She turned to Clint, who was standing guard between her and the tunnel. “Did you come across any Chitauri?”

“Nah. Just a group of soldiers from Odessa. They were collecting scraps from the battlefield.”

Natasha frowned. “The battlefield?”

“That’s what they said. Why?”

“The knight that attacked me had come from the battlefield. Did they mention seeing any Chitauri?”

“Not that I can recall.” Clint glanced back the way he had come. “Do you really think that the two are connected?”

“I'm not sure yet. It might be nothing. I _hope_ it's nothing. But it's better safe than dead. Did you recognize any of the soldiers?”

Clint scratched the back of his head. “No, sorry. Though I also didn't see all of them. Some of them remained in the wagon.” Natasha sighed, and Clint winced. “I'm guessing I should have investigated further?”

Despite her frustrations, Natasha shook her head. “You had no reason to be suspicious of them. The military sends caravans to collect scraps all the time. Loki's even had us do it before. For all we know, it's just a coincidence. The knight could easily have passed by that area undetected.”

Except Natasha had seen too much, done too much, to believe in coincidences. She climbed into Black Widow's saddle and wrapped the reigns around her fists. “Take me to where you found the soldiers. We’ll follow their trail and see for ourselves what they were doing.”

Clint nodded and mounted his dragon. As they flew, the wind continued to pick up into a steady roar. Judging by the tan haze blotting out the horizon, a sandstorm was quickly approaching from the southwest. They urged their dragon's to go faster as the sands started to come alive below them.

A few miles passed before Clint slowed to a stop. “This is where I saw them,” he called over the howl of the wind. “I'm going down. Watch my back.”

Hawkeye descent was made choppy by the rough winds, and Natasha kept an eye on the oncoming wall of sand as well as the ground. She had to keep a tight hold on her dragon to keep them from being blown away, and below, Clint struggled to walk against the oncoming storm. His clothes snapped around him, and he lost his balance a few times as he leaned down to inspect something on the ground. But he kept at it, circling the area multiple times and leaving no scrap unturned. It wasn't until the sandstorm was almost upon them and Natasha was considering ordering him back onto his dragon that he abandoned his task.

Though Natasha hoped for answers, Clint shook his head as Hawkeye approached. “I couldn't find anything definitive. The wind had already blurred their prints enough that it'd take hours to unscramble them.” He chuckled deprecatingly. “Shitty time for a sandstorm, huh?”

“Depends on who you're asking,” Natasha said with a scowl. Despite her expression, though, Natasha was not angry. No- she was worried. _Afraid_. Because the only people she knew that would use something as commonplace as a sandstorm to disguise their movements were the people who had trained her, and if they were involved...

Clint nudged his dragon closer to hers. “I'm not liking that face you're making there, Nat. What're you thinking?”

Natasha swept her gaze across the barren sands, and the burning of her wounds keenly reminded her of what laid beneath the surface. “I'm thinking that we are in far more trouble than we had thought.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Wind whistled past Loki's ears as Lockheart descended rapidly, narrowly avoiding the spires of the fort's towers. The dragon's gears screeched as flared its wings wider. Air pushed the canvas taut, and Loki pressed himself tightly to his mounts neck as the entire machine shuddered.

Lockheart hit the ground with a clang and stumble. Its hind legs buckled, nearly sending both it and its rider into the dirt. Loki held tightly to the dragon's neck as it groaned pitifully, and he echoed the sentiment with a groan of his own.

As one, dragon and rider slumped forwards. Lockheart's glowing chest came to rest in the dirt, and Loki laid his throbbing head against gleaming gold plates. Sunlight beat down against the general's exposed neck, but the salty breeze chased away the sweltering heat. He let out a long sigh and willed the tension from his muscles.

Loki would have been content to stay like that for hours, but he could see a small crowd gathering across the field. Soldiers had stopped their activities to stare at him, pointing fingers and whispering amongst themselves. The distance was too far for Loki to hear their words, but he didn't have to; their fear was clear. After all, what chance did they stand if the general himself continued to return from the front lines in ruin?

Loki forced himself to move. He slid from Lockheart's back with a facsimile of his usual grace, using the dragon's body as a crutch. His legs, especially the left, protested baring his weight after spending almost ten hours pinned to Lockheart's side.

Pushing past the pain, Loki grabbed Lockheart's reigns and tugged the dragon forwards. With a heaving groan, the machine began walking. Each step caused Lockheart to lurch, and they had only made it a few feet when the dragon slowed. Loki paused and glanced back at its hind legs; the metal was crushed, and a few of the gears were on the verge of falling off.

They had barely reached the dirt field by the shed when a gear at last fell out. Metal screeched and Lockheart crashed to the ground as its legs collapsed. Though the dragon attempted to stand again, its hind legs wouldn't respond.

“Guess this spot is as good as any,” Loki muttered and released the reigns. “Now where is a stablehand when I need one...”

He surveyed the field but saw no sign of a mechanic. He did, however, spot a young woman hiding in the shadowed corner between the barracks and offices. Her hair was hidden beneath an aviator cap, and her plain uniform was unbuttoned halfway. In her hands was a book that she eagerly flipped through.

Loki stalked towards her, his footsteps becoming more even as he moved. The woman continued to read, her lips moving silently with each word and her feet tapping against the barrel she sat on. When Loki stopped in front of her, she didn't seem to notice his presence. Even clearing his throat didn't get her to look up.

"Darcy," he snapped at last, and she started, the book flying out of her hands with a shout. The book landed on the ground, its place lost, and she nearly knocked her perch over. Loki reached over to slam the barrel back into the ground, and the cadet breathed heavily.

"Oh my god. You can't go around doing that to people! What if I had a heart attack? What if I broke my skull? I'd have sued you!"

"And then you'd have to explain why you were reading instead of doing your drills like the other trainees," Loki said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Darcy looked embarrassed for only a moment before brushing it off. "It's not my fault that those drills are so boring. Besides, the others are all freshies. I've already got a dragon of my own in the works. I don't need to practice with those stupid gliders anymore."

"I think you'd find some more practice would do you well, if you're so easily startled." Darcy opened her mouth to complain, but Loki didn't let her speak. "I have a job for you. Fetch blacksmith Stark and bring him here."

"What? Now?" Darcy looked down at her book in dismay. "That's almost an hour walk, and I was just getting to the good part!"

"Your book will still be here when you return," Loki said, turning away. He tuned out the cadet's continued protests, confident that she would eventually do as he asked, and returned to his dragon's side.

There were numerous tasks for him to do, even with his mount out of commission, but the ground by Lockheart's side was looking abnormally comfortable.

'Just for a few minutes,' he told himself. 'Then I'll return to my office and finish my report.'

But when he let his body slide to the ground, his back resting against the shed, he couldn't keep his eyes open. His head lolled to the side, and his arms went slack.

'Just a few minutes,' he reminded himself.

The next thing Loki knew, Stark was shaking him awake.

He groaned and pried his eyes open. There was a concerned, scraggly face mere inches from his own. Stark squeezed the general's shoulder and said, “Hey, there you are. I thought you'd never wake up.”

It took Loki a moment to get his thoughts in order. “How long have you been here?”

“Few minutes,” Stark said. “Watched you sleep for a while- you snore, did you know that? And then I tried to wake you.” The man's brow furrowed. “You sleep like the dead.”

Loki frowned. He had always struggled with waking up at the slightest noise in the barracks or palace halls. But as the war continued, exhaustion permeated his body and found a home in his bones, lingering there alongside his guilt and shame. Yet he could not stop, because his regrets would not let him. Even if at times he wanted to give up, or run away, it wasn't an option. He refused to be the coward that the Aesir always said he was.

Shaking his head, Loki braced his arm against Lockheart's side and began to stand. Stark released his shoulder a took a step back, but he watched Loki closely, prepared to intervene if the god collapsed. Worry was an expression unbefitting the man; Loki tried to make it go away.

“I would not have had to sleep had you not taken so long to get here,” he said, leaning against his dragon's side.

“Don't blame me. I got here as soon as your little lackey told me you were back. Not sure why, since clearly it wasn't that urgent.”

Stark had a point, but Loki wasn't going to admit that. “I'm certain any job I have for you is more important than what you normally do. Now then, are you going to continue talking or do your job?”

“Kind of hard to do my job when you're standing in my way.”

Loki took a deep breath and pulled away from Lockheart. His muscles locked to keep him from swaying, and when the vertigo eased, he made a sweeping gesture towards the dragon. “Its all yours.”

“Are you...” Stark started, not even paying attention to Lockheart. He ran his fingers through his hair, took a deep breath, and continued, “Are you okay? You seem... _Off_. Maybe you should, you know, take a break?”

Normally Loki would be infuriated by the insinuation that he couldn't handle himself- that he was too weak to take on the enemy -but instead he just felt scooped out and hollow. “Believe me,” he murmured. “I would if I could.” Then, before the conversation could fall into something too intimate, too vulnerable, he steered the conversation back to what Stark was here for. “One of the back gears is damaged. It needs to be fixed.”

Stark let the previous topic drop with an exasperated half-huff, half-sigh. He stepped forwards to see the damage that had been covered when Loki was tucked against Lockheart's. His eyebrows raised.

“When you said damaged, I was thinking the minor sort of thing I have been fixing. That whole section is mangled. I'm surprised your dragon even managed to fly back here.” The blacksmith leaned towards Lockheart, his fingers treading lightly along contorted ridges. “What happened?”

A better question would have been, 'What _hadn't_ happened?' but Loki wasn't in the mood to discuss what he had seen in the desert. Instead, all he said was, “I went down the wrong rabbit hole.”

“Right. Well, I'm not gonna be able to fix this one easily. You'll need whole new parts in there. I'd say a few days, maybe a week, before you can fly again.”

Loki shook his head. “I need it by tomorrow.”

Stark gave him an odd look. “Tomorrow? That's an unreasonable request, even for you.”

“I can't wait longer than that. But look on the bright side- after that, I won't need your services for a while.”

Tony drew back from the dragon. “What are you talking about?”

Loki hadn't intended to eleborate, just give a non-descriptive response like he was supposed to, but he found his mouth moving before his brain could stop it. “The situation has escalated on the border. Odessa is almost lost, and the military won't be enough to save it. My riders and I are joining the Corp there to hopefully keep the Chitauri contained in the desert. If they spread... Well, we might all find ourselves turned into nothing more than beasts of burden, just like the Jotuns have.”

Tony was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his usual bravado was gone. “How long will you be gone?”

“I don't know. Maybe a few weeks if things go well. If they don't...Then who knows.”

Though Loki shrugged, he knew it was not so simple. Given the way Stark was staring at him, he knew the man wasn't fooled either. Still, Stark didn't comment, and his focus returned to Lockheart.

“Tomorrow isn't possible, even if I rush,” the blacksmith said as he appraised the damage. “I can get it to you by Saturday at the earliest.”

Anxiety bubbled in Loki's chest. There was no time. He had to stop the Chitauri. He had seen them, their earthen mounds. They had infected the earth, and they were coming.

“I'm not paying you to get things done on Saturday,” he snapped, his words coming out far harsher than he intended.

Stark stared coolly back at him. “If I gave you the pieces tomorrow, they'd be nothing more than molten metal. Saturday is all I can promise you. Besides,” the man said, giving Loki a once-over, “you could use the break.”

Though Loki wished to deny it, it was true. His body was protesting, and he knew that if he were to fly now, he'd be nothing more than a burden to his team. At most, he'd get them all killed.

“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “Saturday. But no later.”

Stark nodded. “Bring me Lockheart on Friday. I'll start attaching the parts then.”

“You can't take him now?”

“Not enough room,” the blacksmith said. “Besides,” he gave a crooked grin, “It means I get to see you one more time.”

The wane smile Loki returned was more of a grimace. “I thought you couldn't stand my presence.”

“Yeah, well,” Tony shrugged, looking away. “Doesn't mean I want you to get killed out there.”

There was a long, somewhat awkward moment of silence, and Tony filled it by pretending to be interested in Lockheart's damaged legs. Or maybe he was interested. Loki was too tired to sort out the difference.

The moment was broken by the flapping of broad wings, and Loki looked up to see the other members of the First Corp returning. He sighed and turned to Stark. “I have matters to tend to. I'll bring Lockheart to you in two days.”

Stark nodded and stepped away. “I'll hold you to that.” He paused, as if he was going to say more, but then he huffed and turned around.

Stark walked away, and as the man's back faded, Loki realized that he'd miss these visits of theirs. They were the one thing in his life that interrupted the horrid monotony of war. But he would give them up a thousand times over if it meant that he could fix his mistakes. Already he had sacrificed so much- this small pleasure would be nothing.

But... he was glad that this, at least, _wasn't_ something he'd have to forsake forever. He'd return, and Stark would be waiting.

 


	8. Chapter 8

There were only a few things in the world that truly infuriated Steve Rogers: Chitauri, traitors, racists, xenophobes, bullies, asthma, sunburn, sand, barley soup...

Okay, so there was actually a lot of things that pissed Steve off, but normally he didn't encounter most of them in one place. Odessa, however, seemed to be designed for no other reason than to make his blood boil. The only thing that could make the city worse would be if sweet old Mrs. Bentz rose from her grave and forced a bowl of soup on him. It had tasted like rubbish, but Steve could never gather the nerve to turn her down. She was just trying to be kind, after all. So he would choke the overcooked barley down while Bucky cackled at his side, enjoying Steve's misfortune far too much for someone who was supposed to be his best pal.

Now, as he walked through the sandswept streets of Odessa, Steve would have gladly eaten a bowl of soup in exchange for leaving this hellhole.

“Ugh, I wish I got to go to Knowhere with Nat. This place is disgusting.” Clint tugged his uniform away from his skin, trying and failing to aerate the wet spots growing under his arm and around his chest. Only he and Loki had chosen to remain in their standard issue jackets after the meeting, and it seemed that he was regretting that decision. “And I'm not just talking about the weather. I don't know how you deal with those assholes on a regular basis, boss.”

Loki had been slowly increasing the distance between them since they left the barracks, each step heavy and sharp. At Clint's words, he glanced back at them and, upon noticing how far ahead he was, slowed.

“I usually to stop listening after a point,” the general confessed. The fiery anger than had enveloped him since they arrived cooled into something closer to weariness. “Most days I wouldn't miss much.”

But today, of course, had required their full participation. As much as everyone would like to forget that the Chitauri were lurking beneath the ground outside Odessa's walls, they couldn't. There came a time where one could no longer ignore an issue, and that time had arrived. Probably arrived long ago, honestly, but now Steve knew why it took so long for Loki to get missions authorized. The bureaucrats in that meeting acted as if they had all the time in the world.

“You'd think they'd be more invested in this war,” Steve said, shaking his head angrily. “The elves, dwarves, Aesir- all of them. But they're just looking out for themselves.”

Clint shrugged. “Humans are no different. If we weren't the ones under attack right now, we wouldn't be getting involved, either. I mean, we didn't do anything to help the Jotun, did we?”

“That's dif-” Steve started to say, but then he realized that it _wasn't_. He corrected himself. “We should have. Leaving them to fight alone makes us no different than the Aesir, and most people despise them for not helping us.”

Realizing that Loki was still in earshot, Steve's head darted up, expecting a reprimand. The general was, after all, an Aesir himself. But Loki had returned to staring blankly ahead and didn't seem to hear the comment.

Clint groaned. “This is stressing me out. I need a drink. You guys want to join?”

Bucky answered immediately. “Hell yes.”

Clint grinned. “Which means Steve's an automatic yes.” Then he called to Loki, who had increased the gap between them again. “What about you, boss? You want to join us for a beer?”

Loki started and turned back to them. “No,” he said after a moment. “I still have work to do.”

“No offense, sir, but you could probably use the drink,” Steve said. “You started working today before the rest of us even woke up.”

Before Loki could reply, Clint said, “Eh, leave him be. He gets grouchy in the heat. Wouldn't be fun to have around anyway.”

The general glared, and Clint gave Steve a look as if to say, 'See what I mean?'

“You could learn a think or two about respecting your superiors, Corporal,” Loki said, but the words lacked bite. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You three go ahead. Just remember that we're flying tomorrow.”

“Yes, boss!” Clint saluted before scanning the barren streets. Something must have caught his eye because he grinned and broke from the group, not bothering to check if anyone was following.

Bucky did, but Steve hesitated. He turned back to Loki, in case maybe the general had changed his mind, but Loki had already continued towards the walls. Steve sighed and jogged to catch up with the others, coughing as dust gathered in his throat.

The streets of Odessa were buried in both parts ash and sand. Beneath the heavy coating laid crumbled bricks and bullet casings. Everyone they passed on the streets wore a uniform. Any civilian that could leave Odessa had fled long ago, when the Chitauri had first laid siege to the city. The ones who remained either couldn't make the journey or were too hopeless to bother.

As the riders walked past a building that still reeked like smoke, Steve asked, “Do you think they'll send us to Thanatos again?”

Clint shrugged. “It's hard to tell. Though judging by how badly it went last time, I don't think we'll get approval, even if Loki is intent on trying again. Our unit is just too small now.”

“At least the riders stationed here aren't complete asses. Wouldn't mind having one of them join us.”

“Anyone but that Scott fellow is fine with me. He talks too much.” They rounded a corner, and Steve squinted as he caught sight of blurry figures at the end of the street. Clint picked up his pace with a muttered, “Finally.”

Their conversation ended as rambunctious voices bounced off the shell-worn walls. What had been indistinct blurs became a group of people loitering outside a bar, and there were dozen more inside. It seemed to Steve as if every off duty soldier in the town was at The Sandy Siren, chasing away the reality of war with liquor.

When the dragon riders stepped inside, eyes turned and followed them as they walked to a booth in the back corner. Bucky glared at anyone whose sight lingered, positioning himself between them and Steve. His metal fist rested threateningly on top of the splintered table.

“Lay off, Buck,” Steve said as he reached over to unlock the window. It took a moment to get it open, since sand had clogged the hinges, and when he did, the air outside was no cooler than the air inside. “No one is going to start anything with us, and if they do, I can handle myself.”

Bucky snorted in disbelief, but he leaned back in his chair and pulled his arm in. Facing Clint, he said, “Since you lost our bet, drinks are on you.”

“Awwww,” Clint whined, but he slid from the booth and headed for the bar. Once there, he began trying to charm the bartender into giving him a discount. The volume returned to the bar.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Bet?”

“Clint thought that Loki would forget about Stark in a month.”

“Well, he _has_ done that before.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Not acting like this, he hasn't.”

Clint returned with three pints and set them on the table. Bucky wasted no time grabbing one and chugging it. Steve followed at a slower pace, and the beer burned its way down his throat. He grimaced, and Bucky chuckled.

Not about to let his friend start teasing him for how badly he handled his liquor, Steve met Bucky's eyes as he took a large gulp. Not one to pass up a challenge, Bucky started drinking faster, and in less than a minute, both of their glasses were empty.

They set their tankards down and looked to Clint, but he shook his head. “I ain't paying for you two to get wasted the night before a mission. Do that with your own money.”

“You're just saying that because you know you'd lose,” Steve said, and Clint scoffed, sipping at his beer. The blond grinned and shot his friend a conspiratorial look. “But we understand, don't we, Buck?”

“Yep,” Bucky agreed, leaning over the table. Clint eyed them both warily.

“In fact,” Steve continued, “we know you don't _really_ even want that drink. So let us take that off your hands.”

Before Clint could register the words, Bucky snatched his beer out of his hand and started drinking it. Clint spluttered out a complaint before scowling. “Oh, it's _on_ ,” he said, shoving to his feet. “No one out drinks a carny.”

He stormed off to fetch them another round, but when he slid back into his seat, a sudden tension fell over the room. Frowning, Clint turned to face the door, and Steve half-rose from his seat to see over the man's head.

A dwarf was making their way through the bar, head barely visible over the tables. Though the dwarf had to notice the sudden tension, they walked with pride with certainty. In their beard, bells and pendants clanked, displaying their military prowess for all to see. When the dwarf climbed onto a chair at the bar, Steve realized that he recognized them from the strategy meeting that afternoon.

“I'll take a shot of whiskey,” the dwarf said, standing on their seat to see over the lip of the bar.

With a nod, the bartender grabbed an empty glass and began to fill it. But when he set the shot in front of the dwarf, a scathing voice from across the room said, “I didn't know you served pests at this establishment.”

Steve craned his neck to make out the speaker. It was an elf, sitting in the opposite corner of the bar. Dark elf, he realized as he peered closer, though the name itself a misnomer. Unlike their surface-dwelling kin, the subterranean elves had adapted to living completely underground, and their skin had so little pigmentation that they often wore masks and cloaks to protect themselves from the sun.

Not about to let the elf disrespect a fellow soldier, Steve opened his mouth. He was stopped by a sharp tug on his elbow.

“Don't,” Bucky said. “Let them settle it themselves. You don't want to get involved in that.”

Steve snorted at the advice, but he held his tongue- for now -to watch events unfold.

The dwarf gripped their cup tightly and turned to face the elf. When their eyes met, the dwarf scoffed, “They already served you, didn't they, land-stealer?”

The elf's chair hit the ground with a thud as he jumped to their feet. The other occupants of the table, another dark elf and a human, also stood, though all the human did was rescue their drink from the shaking table and step back. He leaned against the wall as the two elves stood together, murky grey eyes alight with rage.

“Watch your tongue, _halflin_ g,” the first elf spat. “Our people are not to blame for your greed.”

“A dark elf has no right to speak of greed, not when you are invading our land and making my kin starve!”

With an enraged yell, the elf lunged forwards, drawing a scimitar from his belt. In a second, the dwarf had their own weapon free of its sheath, and they leapt to the ground. The bartenders shout of, “No fighting indoors!” was ignored, and the blades sung as they collided.

Steve pulled his arm from Bucky's grasp and lurched to his feet. “Hey,” he shouted, stepping towards the middle of the room. “Why don't you pick on someone your own size, huh?”

Behind him, he could hear Bucky groan and Clint snicker, but his attention was on the elf, who had turned to face him. “'My own size?'” the elf asked, looking Steve up and down. “And you believe you are it? You're hardly taller than this half-man.”

Steve bristled at the insult, but the dwarf spoke before he could retaliate. “I don't need a human to fight my battles for me,” they declared, pushing their axe against the scimitar. The elf danced out from beneath the blade, letting it slice through empty air before darting back in. He thrust his weapon at the dwarf's head, but it was blocked once again.

A dagger slipped from the elf's sleeve. He slashed downwards, nearly hitting the dwarf's face, but they dodged at the last moment. Not quick enough, however, to keep the dagger from cutting into their beard. Strands of brown hair fell to the floor along with two charms.

The dwarf stared at the fallen ornaments and shouted in outrage. They charged the elf, putting all of their weight into their blade. It shoved the elf's scimitar aside and cut into his hip. With a cry, the elf staggered to the side, and red welled to the surface.

At the sight of the blood, the elf's companion leapt to his aide, but Steve intercepted her. Though he had no weapon, he wasn't completely unarmed; the magic that wasn't needed to power his dragon channeled into his arms, strengthening them. He ducked under the elf's blade as she prepared to throw it and knocked his forearm against hers. The dagger imbedded itself into the far wall.

Another dagger appeared in the elf's hands, and she attacked Steve. He fought back with equal vigor, and soon their fight mirrored the one happening a few feet away. The other patrons cleared the area, but they didn't go far. An audience had formed near the door, half amused and half annoyed. Behind the bar, the bartender stopped wasting breath on protesting.

Steve did his best to not let the elf put distance between them. He used his small size to his advantage, darting beneath her arms to land punches against her chest. She grit her teeth and tried to force her dagger between them. It nicked his arms, covering them in shallow cuts, but he persisted.

The fight dragged on, lulling into a familiar rhythm, and Steve got complacent. That's when the elf switched tactics. Her heel swung into Steve's temple, sending black dots across his vision. He stumbled backwards, banged into a table, and slid to the ground. The patrons sitting there lifted their drinks as the table shook and, when the enraged elf stormed closer, wisely vacated their seats.

That's when Bucky intervened. One second he was on the side, letting Steve handle things, and the next, he was standing with a foot on either side of the blond and a gun in his hand. The elf paused, watching him warily.

“I wouldn't step closer, if I were you,” Bucky growled, finger tightening over the trigger.

Steve hauled himself from the floor, using the table for balance. At the sight of him standing, the female elf scowled and stepped forwards.

A gunshot rang through the bar. People shouted in surprise, and the male elf stopped mid-slash, eyes wide in surprise. The dwarf pulled their blade back, not taking advantage of the other's distraction. But the bullet wasn't lodged in the female elf's body; it was burrowed in the wood paneling of the floor.

“That's the only warning you'll get,” Bucky said, raising the gun to point between the elf's eyes. “I promise that the next one will be for you.”

Everyone was watching, waiting to see how events would unfold. The elf glanced between the gun, Bucky, and Steve, debating her choices. Clint stepped in before she could decide.

Slow clapping caught the bar's attention, and all eyes turned to the remaining dragon rider. He had risen from his seat, expression serious despite his mocking applause. The First Corps insignia was prominent on his shoulder.

“As entertaining as this has been,” he said, lowering his hands, “I suggest that this stops now. Or have you all forgotten that we're on the same side?”

The male elf bared his teeth. “The dwarves will _never_ be my allies after what they have done, and neither is anyone who agrees with them. Get in my way, and I'll cut you down, too.”

That's when the human who accompanied the elves stepped out from the crowd of spectators. He had been so quiet during the fight that Steve had almost forgotten he was there. “Ishvar,” he said, and the elf faced him with a scowl. “This petty feud of yours is not worth it.

“Petty feud?” Ishvar hissed, swinging his blade to point at the dwarf. “These barbarians have continually denied my people refuge, forcing us to remain in the desert and the Chitauri's warpath. They pile our corpses to keep the insects out. It is not _petty_.”

“Perhaps not,” the human said. “But the mage is right. Malekith made an alliance with the dwarves. It would not reflect well on your leader if you killed an ally in the middle of a pub.”

Though it was clear he wanted to do anything but, Ishvar sheathed his sword. “Be glad, dwarf. My companion just saved your life.”

The dwarf laughed loudly, though it was not a mirthful sound. “Hardly. It was you, land-stealer, who just got spared.”

Ishvar clenched his fist, but the female elf stopped him with a hand to his wrist. “Calm yourself, Ishvar. Rollins is right. We must remember what Malekith said.” Then she put her lips mere inches from his ear and whispered something too quiet for Steve to hear.

“Fine,” Ishvar said as she pulled away. “But only this time.”

Without another glance at the dwarf, he strode to their table and grabbed the two masks lying there. He tossed one to his companion, and she fastened it to her face. He did the same, hiding his expression beneath the emotionless visage. They left the building side by side.

Rollins tossed his head back, finished off his tankard, and set the empty glass on the closest table. “Put the damages on my tab,” he told the bartender, paying no mind the annoyance of the other patrons. At the man's nod, he gathered his bag and went to the door. On his way out, he glanced at the dragon riders with a calculating expression. Then he too was gone.

It didn't take long for the remaining patrons to shake off the tension and return to their drinking. The dwarf sheathed their blade and leaned down to pick up the ornaments that had been cut from their beard. One was a small, round pendant with a dwarvern symbol stamped on it. The other was a silver bell.

As the dwarf stared down at the two items with an expression of sorrow, Steve made his way to their side. “I'm sorry about your charms,” he said. “Are you alright?”

“Good as I'll ever be, given the times,” the dwarf groused, and with a sigh, they stuffed the fallen adornments into their pocket.

Steve offered his hand to shake. “I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Rogers. First Corp.”

“Dragon rider, eh?” the dwarf said, scrutinizing Steve. “Don't look like one, but I'm not one to judge. Need all the soldiers we can get.” They placed their hand in Steve's and gave a hearty shake. “Kahurangi. Brigadier General of the Third Division.” With a nod to the bar, Kahurangi asked, “Care to join me for a drink?”

 


	9. Chapter 9

Outside Odessa's crumbling walls, a squadron of soldiers patrolled the desert. Each round brought them past an open tent a hundred yards beyond the city's main gate. It had only two walls and a roof, which billowed and snapped in the evening winds. Beneath the tent was a table, and on that table was an unlit lantern and a scorpion. The scorpion's tail laid flat as its brown carapace soaked in the last of the sun's rays.

When Loki ducked under the tent's awning and approached the table, the scorpion paid him no mind. Even when he leaned against the wind-worn wood, making the table shake, it just scuttled out from his shadow and resumed sunbathing.

A second shadow fell over the table, swallowing the scorpion. In the darkness, the insect's tail arched over its body.

“Disgusting creatures, aren't they?” the figure asked, leaning over to peer at the insect. “Hardy, though. They'd have to be in order to live in such an unforgiving environment.”

Two more people came to a stop beside the table, though they spared the scorpion but a glance. Loki imagined they had thousands of the pests back in the caverns they called home. “We didn't come out here to discuss mere insects, General Pierce.”

“Of course, Malekith. I meant no disrespect.” Pierce continued watching the scorpion in rapt curiosity. He reached inside his pants pocket. “Though one could argue that the Chitauri are, at their core, 'mere insects'. Yet it's their insect nature that makes that so hard to kill, don't you agree?”

In the blink of an eye, Pierce had his pocketknife drawn and embedded into the table. Around the blade, the scorpion's body twitched in death throes. The general straightened, puling out his knife as he went. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the scorpion's body flying into the sand. The wind set to work burying it.

“Now then,” Pierce said, wiping the knife clean on a handkerchief. “Let's get down to business.”

He placed both items back into his pockets and motioned for one of his lieutenants to step forwards. She did so, setting a large chest on the table. Pierce opened it, and inside were large, rolled maps. He grabbed one, unrolled it, and pressed it flat for the others to see.

Loki and Malekith stepped forwards while the elf's right-hand man, Algrim, remained at a distance. On the map, black ink marked the Chitauri tunnels like arterial veins, the heart hiding far beyond the army's scope. Small circles indicated where the tunnels breached the surface.

“This is the most comprehensive survey we have of the Chitauri's whereabouts. It's not perfect, as I'm sure you're aware, but my soldiers have worked tirelessly to scout this area the past few months. All of their findings have been compiled here.”

“There's a lot more tunnels here than what the Dragon Corp has reported,” Loki observed. “Doesn't leave a lot of space to lead an army through.” He reached around Pierce to glide a finger along dark lines. “I had thought that we could at least maneuver troops along the edge of the mesas to reach Casavala. Then we'd at least have shade for part of the day.”

“I had hoped so too,” Pierce said, “but we've noticed significant Chitauri activity in that area recently. It seems that they've connected their tunnels to the natural caverns in the area.”

Loki frowned. "They shouldn't be that far east." Neither Natasha nor Clint had reported seeing Chitauri past the old battlefield, and they had confirmed that the tunnels they found went towards Casavala, not Albatyn. To hear that the Chitauri had overtaken the bluffs was so far outside of his expectations that it was almost unthinkable.

But Pierce was confident in his assertions, and Loki had no reason not to trust him. “And yet they are. Traversing the outcropping is too risky. We should go through here.” Pierce pointed out a new path, one that went straight through the open steppes. "They wouldn't be expecting us to attack directly, and the majority of those tunnels were collapsed by my soldiers. The Chitauri would emerge into our awaiting forces.”

Loki considered the other general's suggestion. Pierce was right that the Chitauri wouldn't expect them to march on Casavala directly, mostly because doing was usually suicidal. But with the tunnels in disarray, it could be worth the risk. The Chitauri would be disrupted, and the element of surprise might give the army the advantage that they sorely needed.

"What's your opinion, Lord Malekith?" Loki asked as he turned to face the elf, who was being unusually quiet. Malekith's murky eyes were pointed towards to map, but given the way they were squinted against the setting sun, he probably wasn't seeing much. It was times like this that Loki thought the elf was better off wearing a protective mask like the rest of his kin, but Malekith never wavered in his conviction to never hide the truth of what he was. Even when the sun scorched the elf's skin, he bore the pain of his people proudly.

Malekith turned his eyes towards Loki, then to Pierce, and scowled. "I don't think it's wise to go straight into enemy territory on a mere gamble. Not when my people will be the ones entering the tunnels. How do I know we won't be swarmed and left to die?"

Pierce smiled at the elf and rested a hand on his shoulder. Algrim stepped closer, but Malekith stopped him with a glance.

"Malekith, you have my word that we won't turn our backs on you,” the Odessian general said. “You're our ally, aren't you?"

Malekith nodded, and with a squeeze, Pierce let his hand drop away. Algrim remained tense. “An alliance means little when we cannot be guaranteed the Chitauri's actions,” he said. “I think the elves should take a less direct route, like the one Loki originally proposed."

While annoyance tainted Pierce's otherwise pleasant demeanor, he wasn't the one who spoke next.

“Algrim,” Malekith said, his eyes now narrowed in more than just pain. “I shouldn't have to remind you of how important Pierce's support is to the dark elves. He has done as promised each time, and I intend to do the same. We _will_ take the center tunnels.”

Algrim glanced between Pierce and Malekith with piercing blue eyes. His head bowed. “Of course, my liege. Though I may have been born on the surface, you know that protecting you and the dark elves will always be my top priority. Svartalfheim is my home.”

“I know, Algrim,” Malekith said, his voice suddenly weary. “I know.” Then the elf looked up, and the steel returned to tone. “Will the Dragon Corps be taking the same route as the ground troops?”

“Not quite,” Loki said. “Last I heard, the Chitauri's tanks are still being repaired in Galisteo. That will allow my riders to safely spread out. I will accompany the troops while the others clear the way.”

The last bits of sunlight were swallowed by the horizon, taking with it the blood-red of the sky. Loki reached for the lantern and spun the flint dial. The sparks caught flame, and in the renewed light, he pointed to the map.

“I'll position dragon riders here and here. That'll enable us to take out as Chitauri as we can without risking your soldiers.”

“Are you aiming to take out their Queen?”

“That's the hope. If we can kill the hive in Casavala, it will slow their advance.”

"But for how long?" Malekith asked. "There will always be another Queen to take her place. Perhaps it'd be better to let them have Odessa. It is but one city. Humans can easily build another."

"You'll find that building a city isn't easy for any race," Loki said. At Malekith's glare, he continued, "I'm not trying to invalidate the dark elves' experience. Defending Odessa isn't about the buildings. The city is dead already. No one can deny that. But we can't let the Chitauri have it, because if they do, then they'll have a foothold with which to take the northeast. They'll be able to lay siege to Stuttgart and Albessa. Or maybe they'll turn their attention west to Svartalfheim. None of us will be safe if their reach continues to expand."

"Loki is right,” Pierce said. “Our best course of action is to face the Chitauri head on. If we continue to run from them, we will be eradicated.”

Malekith scrutinized the Odessian general before nodding. "If we've finished deciding a course of action, then I will inform my kin of our plan. We shall be ready to move at first light."

He turned and stalked from the command tent, Algrim following closely at his side. Now that night had fallen, the difference in the dark elf's movement was clear; his steps were confident in the darkness in a way they never were in the sunlight, and the rigidity that had gripped him was gone. In contrast, Algrim's movements had slowed, and even though he'd lived a lifetime in caverns, he couldn't replicate the effect of thousands of years of evolution.

The two elves disappeared inside Odessa's walls, but Loki was in no hurry to follow. The chill of the nighttime breeze eased the oppressive heat that had plagued him throughout the day, taking with it the ache that lingered deep inside his bones.

"I am surprised that you took to council's advice to not attack Thanatos again,” Pierce commented as he began to roll up the map. “I would've thought that surely you, of all people, would be in favor of greater action."

"I _have_ pushed for greater action,” Loki said, turning to the man. “But they were right that another attack would lead to nothing more than our deaths, especially when so many Queens have created hives outside the capital."

"That's a valid point.” Pierce placed the map inside the wooden chest and closed it before turning his full attention to Loki. “It makes you wonder, though, if we humans can ever overtake Thanatos. Maybe we can't. Maybe not even the Aesir can. Maybe that's why the Bifrost has remained closed for the past decade.”

Loki frowned. “What are you trying to say?”

“Have you ever considered that Asgard has had the ability to intervene this whole time and that they've simply chosen not to because they're _afraid_ of the Chitauri?”

“That's ridiculous,” Loki snapped. “The Aesir are not cowards. Especially not their king”

At Loki's harsh tone, Pierce smiled placatingly. "My apologies. I know how much it must burn you to be unable to see your kin. The elves fight together, the dwarves fight together, the humans fight together. Even the Jotun, backwater monsters that they are, fight together." He clasped his hands behind his back and turned to face the wind. "But you. You're the only Aesir on the front lines. The only one constantly in harms way to save this world. Surely you've wished that you could return home and leave us humans to our fate."

Loki took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay level-headed. It wasn't as if Pierce was unique in his sentiments, though he was more direct than most people Loki dealt with. He could be, though, given that they were both generals.

"The thought may have crossed my mind," Loki admitted. "But you know as well as I do that Asgard doesn't intervene because the Bifrost has been closed. I see no reason to wait in Avalon for it to open. For all I know, none of us will ever see Asgard again."

The thought grieved him. Already he was collapsing beneath the guilt of knowing that he had unleashed monsters upon the races of Earth. To think that he might have accidentally sent thousands of Aesir into exile with him was another piece of straw threatening to break his back. It didn't matter that he disagreed with how so many of them chose to remain in the far reaches of the continent or across the Velsig strait, away from the fighting. They never intended to stay on Earth. He was the one who made that choice for them, all because he was selfish. Honestly, he should be grateful that, at the very least, they kept the truth of his failure a secret from the other races. It was more than he deserved.

“General,” a voice called, causing both Loki an Pierce to look over. However, the man standing a few feet from the tent, clad in civilian clothing, had eyes only for Pierce. The Odessian general smiled.

“Rollins, how good to see you've returned. All went well, I assume?”

“Yessir.” Rollins glanced over at Loki. “Would you like me to wait in your office?”

“We actually finished.” Pierce offered his hand for Loki to shake. “It was a pleasure working with you, as always, General.”

“Likewise,” Loki said, taking the offered hand. When he released it, Pierce gathered the wooden chest and turned to Rollins.

“Follow me.”

Rollins did, and soon Loki was alone in the command tent. Though the area was teeming with soldiers awaiting tomorrow's journey, none of them approached him. He savored the silence. When the sun rose in the morning, there was no telling when his next respite would be.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A map with major cities, mountains, and rivers can be found [here](https://s32.postimg.org/r8zpd63yt/Lockheart.png). The map is far from exact, but it will provide a general idea of where things are located. I have also made minor changes to locations, character ranks, and terrain. One change that affects this chapter is I made it clear that the dragon riders stationed in Odessa will be present as well.
> 
> I've also realized that some events, such as the meeting from last chapter, don't make much sense from a military standpoint. Due to the nature of fanfic, I can't do much to change it now without causing confusion. I will endeavor to improve realism in future chapters as I do more research.

 

Light flooded in as the curtains were thrown wide. A groan came from the pile of blankets on a nearby bed.

"Put them back," Steve said, tugging the fabric over his head. His face pressed into the pillow.

"No can do." Bucky stepped away from the window and grabbed a fistful of blankets. With a sharp tug, he yanked the bedding off the bed. Steve's pitiful moaning was ignored. "We have to leave or we'll be late."

"Then let us be late." Steve groped around for the blanket, arm covering his eyes. Bucky held it out of reach.

"What happened to the Steve Rogers that won't stop as long as the Chitauri live?"

"He drank too much."

Bucky chuckled. "I warned you, didn't I? But you didn't listen. To busy drinking with that dwarf friend of yours."

"She was nice," Steve mumbled. He gave up on getting his sheets back and settled for glaring at Bucky.

"Doesn't mean you had to match her drink for drink."

Steve didn't answer, too busy being miserable. Bucky sighed and fished a small vial out of his pocket. He tossed it at Steve. The vial hit his friend's chest and rolled onto the blanket before Steve even realized it had been thrown.

Bony fingers fumbled for the bottle. Steve lifted it to his face and squinted at the handwritten label along the side. Even without a pounding headache Steve would have been unable to read it.

"It's for your hangover," Bucky said. "Freshly brewed and enchanted."

Steve quickly uncorked the bottle and tossed it back, downing the contents in one gulp. When he pulled the bottle from his lips, his face twisted in disgust. "Can't they make it taste any better?"

"Why bother? They know people will still drink it."

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but then he paused. He scrutinized Bucky. "When'd you pick this up, anyway?"

"This morning. Woke up early."

Hardly slept, actually. He'd tossed and turned for hours before a particularly vivid nightmare woke him for good. Thankfully, Steve always slept like a brick, especially when he was drunk.

But Steve wasn't stupid. The expression on his friend's face told Bucky that Steve knew exactly why he had been wandering the fort at the crack of dawn.

Nonetheless, Steve didn't press the issue. He dragged himself upright and leaned against the headboard. His eyes went to the window that overlooked an alley between the Dragon Corp and army barracks. Soldiers were pouring from the other building, heading in the direction of the western gate. There they would join with the reinforcements from Stuttgart and Albesaa.

"When do we march?"

"Within the hour."

"How long do you think we'll be gone this time?"

"No idea. I doubt even Loki knows."

Steve sighed. "I feel like we've been fighting forever." He turned away from the window and stood. "You should go to the hangar. I'll meet you there when I'm dressed."

Bucky nodded and crossed the room. When he opened the door, he paused. Looking over his shoulder, he called, "Don't be late this time, punk."

A boot flew past his head and hit the wall. "Shut up, jerk!"

Bucky chuckled and stepped into the hall. The door closed behind him, and he could hear Steve curse up a storm as he went to retrieve his boot-turned-projectile.

As Bucky descended the stairs and away from Steve, the smile slid from his lips. It was as if between one step and the next he had become a different person: gone were the laughing eyes, gone were the easy grins. There was a coldness inside of him, one that not even the blistering heat could alleviate, and it froze his mouth into a frown. His right hand stung as his nails pressed into his palm. The left creaked and whirred.

Breathing in a lungful of stale air, Bucky set out for the hangar. Mudcracks crunched beneath his boots as he weaved through the barracks, and the soldiers he passed gave him a wide berth. If you asked them, they would have said he watched them like a hawk watched a mouse.

If you asked Bucky, he would have said he watched them like the mouse watched the hawk.

Voices came from the courtyard next to the hangar, and when Bucky turned around the last corner, he found that some of the dragon riders were already there. Janet van Dyne was greasing her dragon's gears in the shade, while another of the Odessian riders, Scott Lang, was arguing with Clint.

"Breaking into the Governor's house doesn't count if your employer bribed the guard to let you in," Clint was saying as he shoved supplies into Hawkeye's saddlebags. "They're doing all the work for you."

"Oh, but it counts if you get in by sleeping with the guards?" Scott asked, leaning against his dragon.

"At least then I'm doing the work myself. Besides, I like to think of it as an added bonus."

Scott shook his head, tsk-ing in disapproval. "How desperate the General must have been to recruit you."

Clint scowled. "Like you're one to talk. I heard you were about to be sent to the gallows when the Dragon Corp picked you up."

"Oh, they _have_ sent me to the gallows. But I always escaped in the end."

Clint opened his mouth to reply, but then he caught sight of Bucky walking towards them. "It's about time you got here," he said as he pulled the cloth straps closed. His eyes slid to the empty space at Bucky's side. "Steve's on his way, I assume?"

Bucky jerked his head in a nod. There was a moment of silence as Clint waited for him to elaborate, but Bucky's jaw was clenched tight.

Clint took it in stride. "Loki went to speak with General Pierce. She should be back soon to give us the mission details. The only other rider we're waiting on is Wanda."

Bucky nodded again, and when it became apparent Clint had no other information to supply, he stepped around the two riders to enter the hangar. Before he left earshot, he could hear Scott say, "That guy creeps me out."

The inside of the hangar was even more stifling than outside, and the air reeked of hot metal. Winter's heads rose as Bucky approached, its eyes swimming with purple light. Bucky rested his palms against its snouts. The light inside pulsed red.

When the door of the stable opened, Winter hauled itself outside with a screech of metal. The dragon's too-large frame left scratches in the walls. Bucky leaned over to rub stone dust off the silver plates before taking the dragon outside.

It was easy for Bucky to tune out the conversations around him as he worked on Winter. Silver plates were solid beneath his hands, and the repetitious steps helped crowd out unwanted thoughts. The world narrowed down to him and the oiled rag in his hand.

Bucky's trance was broken when the light above his head shifted from vivid orchid to a deep purple. He paused, clothe held against the gear on the inside of Winter's hip, and turned his head. Steve's boots entered his line of vision.

"Do you need any help down there?" his friend asked, peering through the gaps in Winter's frame.

Bucky shook his head.

"Alright. I'll get our provisions and helmets."

Steve walked off, and Bucky continued greasing the last of the gears. The muscles in his right arm trembled, making it hard to hold the rag. He grit his teeth and forced his limb to be still.

"There's a lot less food than I thought there'd be," Steve said as he returned. He dropped a crate to the ground next to him. "They must not expect the battle to take long."

It took two tries for Bucky's voice to work. "That, or they're running out of supplies." He crawled out from beneath the dragon and stood. "I heard the Chitauri ambushed a Stuttgart supply line last week."

Steve tilted his head at him, and then he smiled. It looked too much like Bucky's. "I was trying to be optimistic, jerk."

Heavy footsteps caught their attention, and they turned to see Wanda Maximoff and her dragon exit the hangar. Witch shown brighter with magic than any of the other dragons, even Lockheart. Its whole body was suffused with an eerie scarlet. When Wanda passed them, that light served only to highlight the dark circles under her eyes.

As if sensing the weight of their stares, Wanda glanced over her shoulder. Steve immediately looked away and busied himself with putting their supplies into the saddlebags. Bucky met her stare, and after a moment, she inclined her head in a nod. He returned the gesture.

The dragon riders finished the last of their preparations and waited for Loki to return. The stream of soldiers from the barracks and mess hall had become a trickle by the time Lockheart landed in the center of the courtyard. Loki dismounted swiftly, helmet tucked under her arm, and beckoned for them approach.

Once everyone was gathered, Loki began to lay out the battle plan. Occasionally she'd draw a diagram in the dirt to point out key targets. Though they would likely review the plan in two days, when the army reached the outskirts of Casavala, each rider listened intently to everything Loki said.

Her last words before they mounted were, "Be careful out there. And I don't just mean on the battlefield. Something is wrong inside this army."

They nodded, and a minute later, six dragons were in the air. They crossed the wall and spread out. Each dragon landed at their post amidst the assembled soldiers. The army stretched for thousands of feet, intermixed rows of foot soldiers, camelry, and wagons. Some of the wagons were filled with water and rations, while others carried masked elves.

At the front of the army, the commanding officers sat upon decorated camels. The most decorated one belonged to Colonel Hawley, the leader of the regiment. General Pierce was, strangely, not accompanying his troops this battle.

Loki landed beside the Colonel, and the two began speaking. After a few minutes, Colonel Hawley raised her head and shouted, "Soldiers, move out!"

Like a frozen river thawing, the soldiers began to move. The first few rows crept to a march, and as they picked up speed, the rest of the army followed suit. Soon, two thousand soldiers were advancing into the open desert. Past the ends of the regiment, dwarven troops had gathered to watch the procession. Them and a handful of soldiers would be the only military in Odessa once the regiment left.

As the army marched, only Hawkeye was in the air. The dragon would fly ahead, circle the regiment, and return to center position.

Everything beyond the army was silent. The wind was but a whisper, and all of the fauna were wisely avoiding the unbearable heat. Metal carcasses poked through thin layers of dirt and sand, and Odessa shrunk away. Plateaus rose up in the city's place, towering overhead. The shade they offered was fleeting, and after a few hours, the foot soldiers began lagging.

Still, they kept moving until dusk fell upon the desert. Long shadows stretched across the ground, and red drenched the clouds. The tops of Casavala's ruins were specks in the distance, their silhouettes stark as the horizon consumed the sun.

"Set up camp here," Colonel Hawley ordered, bringing her camel to a stop. She turned to face the gathered soldiers. "We'll march again when the sun rises."

Her words swept through the ranks, and slowly the structured rows dissolved. Wagons were unloaded and tents sprang to life. Ghostly white faces appeared in the darkness as the subterranean elves left the shelter of the prairie schooners. Some settled down in their own section of the camp while others took up guard at the perimeter.

Winter tromped through the encampment to where the other dragon riders were gathering. Bucky dismounted swiftly while Steve half-jumped, half-fell to the ground. Loki was the only one who remained on her dragon, and she watched them all with keen eyes.

"Specialist Lang, once you've eaten you'll take first watch," she said. "Barton will take second and van Dyne third."

The three riders acknowledged the order with varying degrees of respect. Loki gave the team another once-over before she left for the command tent.

The morning's exuberance was absent, and the conversations that cropped up while they ate were either necessary or brief. Steve moved as if a trance, shoveling down gruel with an empty stare in his eyes. As soon as his bowl was empty, he dismissed himself with a mumble and went to his and Bucky's tent.

Dinner ended, and Bucky helped tidy up before joining Steve. His friend was already passed out on his bedroll, a line of drool on his chin and one boot still on his foot. Bucky sighed and pulled the boot off, placing it by the other one along the edge of the tent. He stripped off his uniform, leaving it in a somewhat neat pile, and laid down.

Bucky breathed in deeply, held it, and breathed out. He shifted, the uneven ground unyielding despite the bedroll. He could see the faint glow of Winter's core through the thin fabric walls, and he focused on it as he tried to relax. Eventually, his thoughts quieted and he began to drift.

That's when the screaming started.


	11. Outline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOT AN ACTUAL CHAPTER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE: This story has been discontinued and will remain incomplete. However, I am posting the outline for the remainder of the fic in case anyone wants to know how the story was meant to go. Admittedly it is excessively convoluted, which is part of why I'm not going to complete it. My apologies to anyone who was hoping to read more of this story.
> 
> There are some rough draft segments mixed in with the outline. However, everything posted here is unpolished, and there might be parts that don't make total sense because again, this is just my outline. For example, the first scene of this was written before I added Odessa dragon riders to the scene. It does not match what is written in chapter 10.
> 
> So read it if you want. This is the last thing I'll be posting for this fic.

 

Bucky and Steve wake up, and at Loki's command, they and the other dragon riders take to the sky.

The ground was becoming a seething black hoard, and when Winter rose high into the sky, he could see the ground troops struggling to repel the sudden invasion. There wasn't supposed to be this much Chitauri. Not this much openings for them to pour from.

Winter bellowed, sending blasts of magic at the ground again and again. The explosions spewed sand, clogging the air. Bucky could feel the particles, rough against his skin, as the dragon flew fast over the ground. In the brief moments at the apex of their flight, Bucky could hear the wheeze of Steve's breath, but there was no time to stop. They flew back in.

But no matter how much magic they threw at the enemy, collapsing tunnels and killing all Chitauri caught in the blasts, there seemed to be no end. As long as there were dragons in the sky, however, they could win.

Something large flung towards Winter, and the dragon barely managed to fling itself out of the way. Bucky swore, clutching tightly at metal plates as the dragon barrel rolled. Then the dragon righted itself out.

"Shit," Steve swore. "Was that a harpoon?"

Bucky's eyes darted across the sands, trying to figure out where the missile had come from. He didn't have to look very hard; another one was coming straight at them.

"Hold tight!" Bucky called, and then Winter shot straight down, wings pulled in tight.

A large metal vehicle was pulling itself from the earth, sand cascading from its onyx hull. Two Chitauri loaded another spear into the catapult and took aim. Magic gathered in the dragon's mouth, but not fast enough. The tank fired.

Winter flared out its wings and lurched forwards. Metal screeched against metal, red sparks flying. Winter screeched, its body tilting and wings beating heavily as it tried righting itself. They were close enough to the ground that a gust of wind buffeted the troops below. They responded with gunfire.

Bucky and Steve tucked in tight against the dragon's necks, letting Winter shield them as they retreated higher into the air. The tank fired at them again before Winter rose out of reach.

High in the sky, Bucky and Steve took a moment to collect themselves. They panted, and Bucky turned to look at the damage the harpoon had caused. The spear was still lodged in the dragon's hip, going through the inside, tearing metal apart, and breaking the gears. The leg didn't move, and the gears at the hip grated and clicked as they tried to move despite the destruction. Bucky could feel the imbalance caused by the dead leg, and it'd make dives a lot harder.

He scanned the skies, searching for the others, hoping they were faring better. It seemed, however, that the tank targeting Winter was not the only one. Lucky was darting down and rapidly firing small blasts of magic at the two tanks targeting him, and Lockheart had gone to ground at the spearhead of the troops, unleashing waves of emerald flames on the Chitauri.

When he turned to look beneath Winter, Bucky saw two more tanks crawl out from the desert.

"There shouldn't be tanks here," he said, hands gripping the reins tightly.

"I know my eyesight sucks," Steve said, "but that was definitely a tank."

"The reports showed this area was clear. There's no way they could have made that-" Bucky cut himself off as the truth of the situation struck him.

Steve picked up his train of thought. "Someone knew exactly where the Chitauri were and led us into a trap."

Below them, the battle raged on. The army was cut down, man after man. Loki tried protecting them as much as she could, but she was at risk as well. Tanks were taking aim at her, forcing Lockheart back into the air.

"Trap or not, we have to keep fighting," Steve said.

A part of Bucky disagreed- they were going to lose this fight, were set up to lose from the very beginning, and going back in would accomplish little but putting Steve's life at risk. But he also knew that was no dissuading Steve, and if they could at least destroy the tanks, the fight wouldn't be a total failure.

Together, they led Winter back into the fray. The dragon struggled to manuever between the barrage fired at them, earning a large scratch along its ribs, but they managed to get down to the ground. Magic shot from Winter's mouths, scorching the Chitauri below, as it flung itself at one of the tanks. Metal crunched beneath the dragon's might, and the head on Steve's side bit into the guns. With a sharp tug, the launcher tore free.

From the corner of his eye, Bucky saw the other tanks taking aim. "Shit," he said, and commanded Winter to rise. It jerked as it obeyed, his order competing with Steve's to attack the tank. Steve quickly adjusted his command, and Winter turned its head, still holding the gun, to face the oncoming harpoon. The spear went through the broken piece of tank instead of through the two riders.

Winter leapt from the tank, wings stretching wide. But it took time for the dragon to gain momentum, and they had no defense from the last tank's attack.

The missile collided with the side of the dragon, and he could feel as it tore through Winter, ripping apart the metal and attempting to tear it from the magic inside. But more importantly than that, he could hear Steve scream.

"Steve!" Bucky shouted, but he couldn't look over; he tucked his head in to avoid smacking it against the ground as the dragon flailed. It landed on its side in the sand. Another pained noise came from his right. "Damnit, Winter. Fly!"

Winter dragged itself to its remaining three legs- no, remaining two, Bucky realized, as he saw where the harpoon had. It had gone through the dragon's right shoulder, breaking the stirrup that held Steve's leg in, and lodged in its chest. Blood ran down the leg in rivulets. Steve's blood.

As the dragon flapped its wings, Steve uncurled himself to look at Bucky. There was blood running down his forehead from smacking it too hard against the ridges of Winter's neck.

"Don't give me that look," Steve said. "I'm okay."

"Save that for when we get out of here," Bucky said. His eyes went to the two remaining tanks. Winter was flying too slow. But there was nowhere to go but up.

By sheer luck, they managed to dodge more harpoons, and Winter made its wayy towards the main army. But they had a new problem to deal with. The twisted metal around Winter's shoulder brushed up against its wing as it flapped, and a hole pierced the fabric. With each wing beat, the hole grew wider. Crimson still oozed from silver to rain onto the receding ground.

Then that hurried moment, where he thought he had lived a thousand years in no more than a minute, ended; Lucky was suddenly there, between them and the tanks, firing at them.

Winter flew away from the enemy with limping wing beats, unable to gain altitude but still functional enough to get them away as Bucky and Steve clutched desperately to the silver spines, their breath coming out in rapid pants, hardly able to believe that they were still alive, that neither of them had been lost to the enemy.

Just as Winter passed out from behind the enemy lines, the construct could no longer keep itself airborne. A loud rip came from the wing as the canvas at last gave way to the strain. The foot soldiers below shouted and scrambled out of the way as the dragon's feet hit the hand, skimming the surface and then lurching as it rapidly slowed. Bucky forced the stirrups to release as he reached across to Steve. Just before the dragon flipped, Bucky pulled his legs out and flung himself at Steve. They fell from the dragon's back just as a small dune caused Winter to crash onto its back. As they went rolling through the hot sands, Bucky never let go of Steve, and as they at last came to a halt, blanketed in sand and surrounded by allies, he had his friend clutched to his chest, listening in relief to the sound of breathing, even if it was interrupted by a pained gasp.

Neither Bucky nor Steve moved for a minute, both from relief and pain. Soldiers gathered around them, protecting them from the Chitauri who had altered their course towards the fallen dragon.

They were not safe, and that pushed Bucky to move. "Hey, Stevie, you okay?" Bucky asked, relinquishing his tight grip on his friend, worried by the pained he could see in the harsh corners of Steve's mouth and the wrinkles around his eyes.

Steve nodded, dragging himself from Bucky's chest to slide into the sand. At seeing Bucky's wory, he covered his pain with a grin. "I had them on the ropes," he said breathlessly, and despite the mess of emotions in his chest, Bucky couldn't stop the grin from coming across his face.

"Of course you did, punk." Then he groaned as he rose to his knees and looked out at the ongoing fight. They were surrounded. Their army was a boat lost in an ocean. Each Chitauri they shot, each one Lockheart and Lucky blasted with fire, was replaced by two more.

One of the soldiers forming the protective circle around Steve and Bucky fell with a cry, a hole through his chest. The Chitauri that shot him pressed the opening, aiming its weapon at Steve. Bucky had his gun out from his side holster and was shooting at the alien before he realized he was.

With one last glance at Steve, who was clutching at his shin with ruby hands, brow clenched tight and sweat shining on his skin, he leapt into the foray. He shot the aliens with precision, and those who got in close he lashed out with his metal arm. Chitin crunched beneath his blow, and the red of Steve's blood was intermingled with black.

It seemed the battle went on forever. Soldier after soldier fell, and the army was pressed in tighter and tighter. Loki and Clint swooped overhead to help, but they had little focus to spare. More tanks had appeared, and harpoons rained down on the earth.

Bucky practically stood over Steve as he fought, unable to retreat any farther. He wouldn't leave Steve, and at least near Winter, they had a slight advantage. The dragon protected their backs, and could still fight even while grounded. Waves of magic thinned the ranks of Chitauri poruing forwards.

From the center, the Colonel was shouting orders, trying to get the troops back into some semblance of formation. It did seem like the tide of enemies was finally stemming, but it was too little too late.

Shouts rang out from the back flank, and in between shots, Bucky glanced over at them. He saw figures approaching on the horizon, coming with the rising sun, a whole legion of them, and he felt his blood run cold. If that was more Chitauri, they would be massacred.

But the shouts were not those of fear- they were of relief. As the figures got closer, it became clear that they were far too short to be Chitauri. The dwarf legion raised their battle axes, and with a roar, they rushed into battle.

In Bucky's distraction, a Chitauri got too close. He saw it raise its gun from the corner of his eye, and he spun towards it with a curse, his own weapon raising. A bang went off, and Bucky froze, expecting a wave of pain. But instead, the Chitauri was the one who fell to the ground.

"Where would you be without me?" Steve joked, half laying on the ground, gun propped against the sand.

"Somewhere far from here," Bucky said, firing off a round of his own. "Now toss me one of your cartridges and get pressure back on that wound."

Steve actually did what he was told, for once, and Bucky held out with the last of their bullets as the dwarves pushed through the Chitauri blocking the rear and joined the main army. Leading the charge was a familiar face.

"Give these cockroaches what's coming to them!" Kahurangi shouted, and her legion answered with hurrahs and renewed vigor.

The dwarves pushed back against the Chitauri hoard, taking up the front lines and at last giving the army to breath and recoup. The Colonel looked out across the battlefield, to their new troops and the dragons dodging tanks ahead, and to Winter in ruins on the ground.

"All troops retreat!" he ordered. Slowly, the troops did so. With the dwarves blocking the Chitauri, the soldiers and remaining supply wagons were able to make a steady retreat backwards. It wasn't as if the carnage stopped- fleeing soldiers were cut down from behind. But slowly, so slowly, they were able to untangle themselves and get away from the tunnel openings.

Unable to retreat with the others, Bucky grit his teeth and kept fighting. But they too were saved when two dragons came down towards them. Witch and Wasp landed, and van Dyne called, "We'll take Winter out of here! Get Steve to a wagon and retreat with the soldiers!"

Bucky didn't waste time arguing. He loop an arm around Steve and hauled his friend to his feet. Steve screamed as pressue was put on his bleeding leg, and the dry ground was becoming muddy red, but Bucky couldn't stop. He hauled Steve, who made feeble attempts to walk with him. They werne't moving fast enough.

A soldier broke from where she was fighting against the Chitauri and came to their side. She looped Steve's other arm around her neck, and with a nod to Bucky, she helped him get Steve out of the battle. They caught up to where soldiers were guiding the camels to keep moving. Many of the wagons had been overrun, the camels killed or escaped in a blind panic. Lots of supplies was lost. But it was better supplies than lives, and they cut their loses and kept moving. Overhead, Witch and Wasp were hauling the wrecked frame of Winter away from the Chitauri's grasp.

Together, Bucky and the soldier were able to get Steve to one of the moving wagons and it stopped to let them inside. Bucky went in the hauled Steve up by the armpits while the soldier kept his legs from hitting the rail. It seemed Steve had passed out, but he still made a quiet moan deep in his chest as they moved him. There were other soldiers in the back of the wagon, many of them also quite injured.

Bucky tugged off the jacket of his uniform and pressed it against Steve's leg. Blood was everywhere, obscuring most of the damage, but it couldn't be good. When Bucky shifted the fabric as it got soaked, he could see white amidst the red.

The noise from outside still hadn't died off, and Bucky craned his head to see what was happening. The was now in the sky, pushing back to night. And what had once been a thick swarm of Chitauri was now lingering remnants. But they did not retreat. They continued forwards, the behemoths tearing into the ground as they crawled forwards. They fired at Lockheart and Hawkeye, who were still fighting, though he could see in the way they flew that the dragons had been damaged.

It was only until the dwarves had stopped defending and started pushing into the Chitauri lines that the tanks and behemoths stopped. They were the only ones. As the machines retreated back towards the nest, the mindless Chitauri drones kept coming. Unlike the tanks, they were very easy to replace. The Queen could spawn another full-sized army in a few months.

XXX

Now Loki knows there is a spy, and more than that, she is pretty damn sure she knows who it is. Bucky is furious, practically crawling out of his skin, but it's clear to everyone that he's also very afraid. And Steve tries to get him to stop, but there's no stopping Bucky on a war path.

And while Bucky waits long enough for Nat to set up a trap, to not allow Pierce to know they know and run, once he gets the all clear, he is storming into the man's room and takes him by the throat and shoves him against the wall. And yet Pierce, damn him, isn't that afraid. Or at least, he doesn't act it at first. He tries to pull on Bucky's strings, but before he gets too far, Nat intervenes.

XXX

Pierce is locked up in Midgard, and Nat takes over interrogation. As they lead Pierce into the facility, Fury is there, and he is the one who says that she has the skills to interrogate him and for people to let her do her thing.

She tugged the gloves onto her hands slowly, tugging each finger down into place and flexing her hand, and as she did, she didn't once look away from Pierce- he didn't deserve a title now. However, the man returned her stare without a hint of fear. In fact, his expression was smug, like he knew she could never touch him. But she would show him how wrong he is.

Once both gloves were snug around her hands, it wasn't hard for her to slip the rest of the way into her role. She strode over to Pierce with measured steps, not allowing the rage within her to take over. No, if she wasn't going to do this right, she needed pristine control.

"Do you really think I'll talk?" Pierce asked as she came to a stop in front of him. The red blotch covering his left cheek did nothing to stop him from grinning at her, and something inside of her shivered. But this was not there, and he had no control; she did not change her expression as she raised her hand and slapped him right where Bucky's metal fist had collided. Pierce's head snapped to the side, but he didn't make a single noise. When he turned back towards her, a small smear of blood was on his lips.

Pierce didn't smile, but he returned to staring at her, unwavering. "That's all you have for me?" he asked. "A slap? I had thought they trained you better than that."

This time when she slapped him, he grunted, but the fear she wanted to see, that she knew would make her heart race, knowing she was doing her job well, was still absent. But that wasn't her job anymore; she didn't need that. What she needed now was answers.

"Why are you working with the Chitauri?" she asked, standing tall before him, making sure the white glove whose fingers now bore speckles of blood were in clear view.

Pierce ignored her question. "I had been surprised when I heard that you, of all the Red Rooms creations, had chosen to join the Dragon Corp. I still can't believe that you didn't join to tear them apart from the inside."

Her punch didn't even delay him; as she pulled her hand away, he continued, "You were always so talented at what you did. The pride of the underground." Then he had the nerve to tut. "You've fallen so far from your previous glory. Now you're nothing more than another soldier."

Natasha refused to let his words reach her. "How many people have allied themselves with the Chitauri? Who are your spies?"

Pierce stared at her in silence for a moment, likely thinking of another way to try and tear down her walls. Though she tried to show no sign of tensing on the outside, Natasha knew that Pierce could see through it. If he had worked with the Red Room, then he was top of his class- had to be, to have fooled all of them for so long. But none of his words could hurt her; no insult against her that she hadn't heard before.

And Pierce apparently realized that, because with a bloody smirk, he switched topics. "Your friend seems to be doing well. Then again, Sergeant Barnes was always resilient."

Natasha's heart pounded in her ears, and it took all of her self control to not throw herself at the smug bastard sitting before her. Only the promise that he'd soon be telling her everything kept her in place, and the knowledge that the more he talked, even if it was to insult her, the more he gave away. The confident ones were always the easiest to trick.

Shifting her focus, she asked, "Why ally yourself with the Chitauri? They seek to destroy the planet. What do you have to gain from their victory?"

Pierce stared at her, like he was pulling her into pieces with her eyes, and she prepared herself to lash out when he abruptly said, "When the Chitauri first invaded, Hydra fought against them with everyone else. After all, we wanted to create order, not destroy everything. But then Galisteo happened. Not even your precious mage could stop their advance. So we changed tactics. We learned more about the Chitauri and studied their hive mind. And that's when we realized that the Chitauri had the same goal as us: a united world."

"You expect me to believe that Hydra actually cares about following its dogma?" Romanov asked. "Because you're right – I did work for the Red Room, your allies, and I enjoyed it. But never did I think that my actions were going to create a utopia."

"And that, my dear Natalia, is why we considered you a risk," Pierce said, his calm attitude remaining unflappable. "You didn't care for our goals, and yet you were better than anyone. Your devotion to the organization was awe-inspiring. But that you willingly bathed in blood does not mean that the rest of Hydra has such loose morals."

The skin on the back of Natasha's knuckles split as she slammed her hand down against Pierce's face, clipping against his teeth. The man grunted as his head was snapped so far to the side that the heavy metal chair he was in tottered and then fell to the ground with a loud clang. She looked at where the man laid against the ground, a puddle of blood dripping from his mouth, and tried to reign herself in.

'You're better than this,' she told herself. 'Control your emotions. He knows who you used to be, but that isn't who you are anymore. That's behind you now.'

As her mantra continued, she went and brought forth the tray of tools of knives and hooks and salt and acid. Her fingers ran across the glinting metal edges, and from the floor, Pierce looked at her with concealed apprehension. But then the expression shifted, though she knew that the fear remained. She thrived off of it.

"You haven't changed," Pierce said, spitting the blood out of his mouth. There was a hitch inn his breath from the pain, but he pushed past it and grinned. "Take the girl out of the Red Room, but you can never take the Red Room out of the girl. There are some who said it'd be impossible to... persuade you back to our side, but I see know it'd be easier than any of us thought."

Natasha reached out, but instead of mindlessly attacking Pierce as she knew he wanted her to- a dead man could tell no tales, after all, and he was smart enough to know that they were never going to let him out alive -she grabbed the chair and yanked it upright. Then she picked her favorite tool- a long needle with barbs on the end -and let her words rush over her.

'I've changed,' she thought, and as Pierce's confidence finally gave way to screams that echoed against the bare stone, faces flash through her mind. Clint, Bucky, Steve, Loki, Fury: they were there, smiling at her or sitting by her side, their stances unguarded even though she could slit their throat. They were her friends, they trusted her, and it was for them that she could do this. Even if it meant facing parts of herself that she would rather keep buried, no one was going to hurt her friends if she could stop it.

XXX

Algrim and Malekith are in a war meeting. People are outraged about Pierce and are pointing fingers. Some accuse the dark elves of being guilty, because they suffered relatively low casualties. Malekith opposes the accusations. People eventually are forced by others to calm down. The meeting is dismissed.

Once alone, heading towards their camp, Algrim asks Malekith if he really wants to ally himself with murderers. And the Chitauri, Hydra, can't be trusted. People still died. Malekith says it's less than if he hadn't taken Pierce's deal for this fight. But Algrim points out that if their betrayal is discovered, they'll be more persecuted than before. If they keep fighting on the right side, this event can be put behind them. Malekith doesn't know the right path. All he wants is for his people to not die. But there are those who oppose his actions inside his own group.

XXX

Steve is sitting with Bucky, who is grumpy and having a bad week with Pierce there. They both have been patched up, and Steve is feeling ill, but he's trying to not show it. He knows Bucky is aware though, and Bucky tries to be good for Steve. They get a break anyway, since Winter got damaged.

Then Sam comes, he's a pilot from a border town who is taking their place while the dragon is fixed. Bucky and Steve used to be stationed in Stuttgart, though Sam came after they were relocated, and he had heard of them from the Howling Commandos. So he also knows about what had happened to Bucky, but he's respectful and doesn't ask or pry. Steve likes him.

XXX

There's a group meeting, including Hill, Darcy, and Sam. Natasha has some information from Pierce, but it's not enough. They just know that the system is compromised, and that they need to be wary of anyone high ranking. From her information network, she is learning that the problem is pretty deep. The only ones they trust in Midgard are Fury and Rhodes. Even amongst their own group, they need to keep missions specific to the group going on it. Pierce is dead- he killed himself when left between sessions so he wouldn't speak. There's also increased problems at the border and despite their earlier trips, they are losing Odessa. The map is shrinking, and they have dawrf/elf turmoil to worry about, and there's also stirring in the south. The Jotun have been quiet for the last few years, but there have been more of them stopping in at the lower cities.

XXX

Pepper talking to Rhodes, because they are both now aware that there's an issue. And as they are talking, someone comes running, wanting Pepper's help. She hears cacophony outside, and she goes, and when she gets there, it's a huge mess. But the defining detail is the two Jotuns within the city walls. They are practically naked, and they have huge scars, but they stand without breaking in the midst of people who hate them.

But then people are getting violent, and one Jotun is bleeding, and so Pepper and Rhodes intervene. However, they do not have the power to stop it. Then someone shouts 'what is going on here' very angrily, and after a while, everyone is aware that a very pissed off Loki is shoving through the crowds.

She then sees the Jotun and freezes, but recovers swiftly. Then she icily makes the people stop, and to back up her threat, Lockheart suddenly appears, all vicious and ready to kill. People scatter. Then Loki looks at the Jotun, but she turns to Pepper, tells her she can handle it, and she leaves, but not the way she had been going. Which, Pepper realizes, had been towards the smithy.

XXX

Tony is working on his suit when Pepper stops by. She looks harried, and she says that Jotun were in the city. Tony is very shocked, and they discuss it. The Jotun had come because they wanted food, but Midgard itself is low. However, Pepper is willing to trade them, but for now, the Jotun are inside her office because it's safe. Which of course makes it seem like she doesn't trust them, which in a way, she doesn't. They are historically their enemy, and they had fought a lot before the Chitauri came.

But then when Tony wonders if that's the reason she came, she said it wasn't. She asks when the last time he talked to Loki is. Tony says he hasn't for a while. Loki is still in Odessa. But then Pepper tells him Loki is back. And Tony perks up, then tries to hide it. But Pepper rolls her eyes and says she knew that Tony liked Loki. And she can see why- they are both stubborn and cocky. But she says Tony should go talk to Loki, which Tony had intended to do the second he heard that Loki was back.

XXX

Loki is in a foul mood after coming back, and there's a ton of work to do, and she's just all around being pissy. Stark comes by, and Loki wants to be with him, but she's got stuff to do, so she's like, 'Go away'. But Tony of course doesn't, and after a while, Tony gets Loki to stop doing stuff under the lure of 'fixing Lockheart'. And while they are there, Tony sees the wreck that is Winter, still getting parts made, and he asks what happened. And so Loki explains, although without specific details, and she lets slip that she feels guilty for the whole war. And when Tony tries telling her that's stupid, Loki can't bring herself to believe him. But still, having Tony there helps, and well... If Loki and he dawdle a bit too long, no one has to know.

XXX

Natasha had seen the previous exchange, and she decides it is time to intervene.

Natasha thought Tony should be embarrassed by how easy it was for her to reach out and snatch him as he walked by the alley, not even glancing at his surroundings as he walked home from the fort. She grabbed the back of his jacket and yanked him back, and before he could make a noise, she clamped her hand over his mouth. He struggled, trying to elbow her in the stomach, but she removed her hand from his shirt and held his limbs down, dragging him farther back into the alley.

Then she felt wetness on her hand, and while normally something as childish wouldn't make her let go, she decided that she had made enough of a point and let him go. Immediately, he stepped out of her grip and spun towards her, his fist raised. She didn't bother raising an arm to block, because just as his fist was flying forwards, recognition flared in his eyes and he jerked to a halt.

"Romanov? What the hell?" he exclaimed as he lowered his arm, though his muscles remained tense. "You can't just drag people into alleys!"

"We need to talk," she said, brushing aside his reaction.

"And you couldn't just say that like a normal person?"

"I needed to make sure you'd listen," she answered with a shrug. And then she let her amusement fade, and she fixed him with a deep stare. His mouth, open to continue protesting, slowly closed as he took in her expression.

"What is it?" he asked, the fight leaving him.

"Despite your flaws, you are a good man," she said. "That's why I need to warn you before you get in to deep."

Tony stared at her blankly. "To deep in what? The army? Because I know-"

"Loki," she said, cutting him off. He tripped over his words, and then he frowned at her. She continued, "I've watched the two of you, and I know how you are with her. And I'm telling you that what you want is never going to happen."

Tony bristled. "I don't really think you're the one who gets to decide that."

But Romanov shook her head, unfazed by the bitterness in his voice. "Loki does what she wants, and I won't get in the way of that. But I've also known her long enough to tell you that your infatuation with her isn't going to end where you want it to."

"And where do you think I want it to end?" Tony asked. "I'm not trying to use her, if that's what you mean. That isn't the kind of person I am."

"No, it isn't," Romanov agreed. "If it was, I would have stopped you long ago. But your reputation precedes you, and while Loki is aware, she has chosen to ignore it. I don't agree, and that's why I'm telling you: she will never accept the intimate relationship that you seek, and you will not push her."

Tony gaped at her, opening his mouth and closing it again. But Romanov didn't need to wait for a reply to know that her message had been heard, and she expected it to be obeyed. If not, she knew where the man lived, and she would ensure that he never hurt the general.

Romanov brushed past the man and walked to the end of the alleyway. Just as she stepped onto the sidewalk, Stark called, "Wait!" She paused, and looked towards him. He had yet to move, and his brow was furrowed. "When you say that Loki will never want what I want... Do you mean...?"

Though the man struggled to put it into words, Romanov could guess what he meant, and she smiled. "I've never seen Loki more infatuated before," she answered, "but what that means for him is not the same as it means for you," and then she kept walking, leaving the bewildered man behind.

XXX

Darcy's first real mission. Really, she should have more training in less critical areas, but they need more people. Winter is finally fixed, and the whole team minus Hill, who stays in case of emergencies, are working to lead evacuations from areas at risk from the enemy breaching the border. They work on stopping the Chitauri and try to torch the city so it cannot be made into a hive easily.

However, when they are there, they see the signs of an establishing portal, one super close to the edge, and that's bad news. When the team lands, someone mentions contacting the teams that are working on portal closing, and Darcy blurts that her friend Jane does portal work. She's not hired by the government, though- but she has a lot of info. So Loki is like, let's go see that friend of yours. Loki does this and not someone else because they are super suspicious, and while they need the ground troops, Loki is not eager to trust them.

XXX

Loki and Darcy go see Jane, who is back near Vanaheim. Some science talk, and then Darcy mentions how Jane misses her boyfriend, and then in a flash, Loki realizes why she seems familiar. She's the one Thor had loved, and as she talks about Thor, Loki gets upset.

XXX

Loki, keeps his upset with him, goes back to Midgard, and immediately seeks out Tony to make him happy. Tony shows Loki the suit to make Loki less upset, and Loki admits that he has done wrong with his brother, and that wrong is causing problems to this day. He can't outright make himself say the whole thing is his fault, though.

XXX

The last of the armies at Odessa fall.

Now that Odessa is lost, there's a lot of panic. Midgard is struggling, and Pepper is trying to consolidate resources and take care of the people trying to flock into the city. There's also the issue of the elves and the dwarves, since land elves are coming for refuge, but the dwarves hate all elves, and the dark elves sometimes come with there brethren and cause problems. There has been a strong push by the dark elves into dwarf territory.

Pepper handles it as well as she can, giving the groups separate areas, though the dark elves are resentful of this. Then as Pepper is sitting there groaning at her desk, Tony stops by and is like, 'Long day, huh?' and Pepper is glad to see him. And Tony says that since she normally is the one telling him to not work, he has decided to return the favor. So he takes her out on a walk, and she's like, ' You're being awfully sweet... Loki isn't here, is he?'

And Tony looks sheepish, and a bit worried, and says that Loki and the Corp are out again. And Pepper knows he's worried, and Tony tries to joke, 'Well, the first time I saw him he was half-dead.' And Tony says he wants to be able to fight, too. He's almost done with his suit. Then he won't have to wait around anymore. But then he shakes it off an says right now is about Pepper. He brings them to a stop at her favorite restaurant.

XXX

Natasha is hanging with Clint when she gets summoned to Broughton, a town south of Midgard that's right along the coast. It's not a military summon, but one of her networks. She goes and Clint comes with. They meet with a shady contact guy in a mask, but then he takes it off and it is just Quill. Quill and his team have brought a Chitauri, captured live, and they are bringing it in with a bag over it's head so it can't give it's queen it's location. It's a knight, so they know it can speak, but it refuses.

Natasha asks how they got it, and Quill says they caught it meeting with a human and an elf. She asks after them, and he says the human got killed- she can ID him in a bit -and the elf got away, though Gamora pursued it for a while and will look into a network of dark elves near Knowhere.

She asks if the knight gave them any information, but Quill says it hasn't spoken and probably won't. Natasha sighs and asks to be shown the human. They go, and she recognizes them as a lower level, Stuttgart stationed military commander.

XXX

Due to the lack of reliance in Stuttgart and to try and sniff out the problem, part of the Corp heads there. They send Steve and Bucky, since both of them used to be stationed in Stuttgart but are not too familiar so as to be biased, and Clint, who has spy skills but is not as well known as Natasha.

There they meet the Commandos again, and it's super nice, since they rarely see each other anymore. And Steve is happy to see Peggy, who is in charge at Stuttgart and doesn't often go on far missions. There's not all the Commandos- some of them are dead. It's just two of them, Peggy, and there's a new guy. He's Rumlow, and he was a newer recruit. But while that's suspicious, he's an amiable enough kind of guy with Steve, though he treats Bucky a bit weird. Either way, that's the team, and they now have to take part in border patrols.

XXX

Now that a chunk of the team is gone, and will be for a while, and Natasha is preoccupied doing a lot of information relaying and information gathering, they need to focus on recruits. So Hill is trying to deal with that, and she's had to take a lot more duties to keep information from any spies, but she also has to hide that she's not trusting people, and it is all a huge headache.

She meets with Rhodes for a bit, and they discuss the land troops they need to support the Corp if they are to run a campaign. There's also mention that they need to do something big if they are to win, but last time Thanatos was a bad idea. Rhodes says that Fury is trying to get them information that isn't filtered through lies so they don't end up like last time, but even if they have an advantage, it might not be enough. Then Hill checks a pocket watch and has to go deal with recruits again, and as she leaves, she says they need some sort of trump card.

XXX

There's a mission that is bloody. Lots of dark elves die. One of the dragon riders ends up holding a dark elf as they bleed out. The elf is but a child. The elf is going to meet the rest of their family and friends in the after life.

XXX

Jane comes to Midgard, and she meets with Fury, who Loki told her to go to, no one else. And he gets her set up with the military and scientist who he thinks are not spies. Sharon is one of them, and Ross is another. They set her up, and she shows them the portal patterns, and she maps out the veins of Yggsdrasil, showing how the Chitauri are rearranging the branches to make their portals, which were originally what could connect Asgard to the main cities. That's how they are making a portal in Odessa, and given the readings, it'll be finished soon.

But she's gotten a lot of work done on untangling the threads, and she hopes to reconnect the main bridge to Asgard. There's a spot north of Vanaheim where she does most of her work, and it looks promising. But Fury says they don't want to open a portal- they need to close them. And Jane should stay in Midgard and study the Odessa readings. And that's not a suggestion.

XXX

Loki, Darcy, and Sam and flying back from a mission, and Darcy has a broken arm, Sam's exhausted, and Loki got smacked around though it's slowly healing. They land and their spirits are slowly getting broken, and Loki in particular feels shitty. And Lockheart's got something glitching in him, making it just a pain in the ass.

Darcy gets helped by the medics who handle basic stuff and is accosted by Jane, Sam goes to pass out somewhere, and Loki, wanting to sleep and people are telling her she should get medical help, just keeps going, looking forwards to the one thing that keeps her returning each time.

When she gets there, Bruce is heading out, and he sees Loki all battered, but Loki waves him off, says she's fine now. Then she goes in, where Tony is trying and failing to act like he's not excited Loki is there. But then when he sees dried blood on Loki's uniform he gets worried, but Loki says she's fine, but Lockheart has some problems. So Tony opens the back doors, and Locheart goes around, and as Tony is working on that, Loki takes off her outer jacket, grabs the bucket of water, and starts rinsing off. As she does, she sees that Tony had been working on his armor, and it's assembled.

Tony is super excited about it, not just Loki being there, and then since the fix for Lockheart was easy, he's like 'let me show you how my suit works!' and Loki accepts, so they head out.

XXX

Tony has the suit on, and he's checking it while Loki is draped over Lockheart's back. Tony is like 'this should work' and Loki's like 'I won't catch you if you fall'. But Tony grins, knowing he's lying, and he gets the jet pack on. However, his weight wasn't balanced and he gets flung back.

When he regains his feet and Loki sees that he isn't hurt, Loki laughs at him, and Tony, despite getting mildly battered, smiles at the sound. Then he tries again, and he gets farther off the ground, so then he gets cocky, and he starts going higher. And he zips around, shouting in joy.

Then he heads back towards Loki, and he's like, 'Race me!' so then Tony jets off, and Loki goes after him with Lockheart, and Tony puts as much energy into the repulsors he can. But then he starts having issues, so he has to land. Loki does too, and Tony mucks around with the suit as Loki dismounts. Loki comes by and looks at the suit, and he compliments it. Tony smirks, and then he tells Loki to step back, and he tries rising again. He gets more stabilized, and it's not shuddering, and he raises his arms like 'I'm the best.' Then something get caught in the engine and he falls on Loki.

Loki's eyes widened and he took a step back to avoid getting hit by Tony- the traitor -but Tony moved too quickly for him to fully get out of the way. Iron Man collided with Loki's chest, and the man lost his balance, falling over backwards as Tony went with him.

Tony's momentum didn't just send them to the ground; they rolled down the hill together, limbs tangled and the hem of Loki's cloak getting caught in the joints of the suit. Then the ground evened out, and they slowed to a stop, with Tony ending up on his side next to Loki, who was sprawled out on his back, blinking up at the sun as his long hair fanned out around him in tangled, grass-filled strands.

Tony stared at him, and then, when Loki turned green eyes to him and gave him an annoyed glare, Tony smiled. He rolled over onto Loki, his hands resting on either side of the god's shoulders. "So, what did you think?"

Loki huffed. "Insufferable man. You planned that, didn't you?"

Tony honestly hadn't, but he felt no need to rid Loki of his assumption. He smirked down at Loki, who rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I wonder why I like you."

"Because I'm devilishly handsome and good with a hammer," Tony supplied. "I think the real question here is why I hang out with you. You're sarcastic and unbearably narcissistic"

"I believe you just described yourself," Loki said, and his lazy, satisfied smirk made Tony's chest warm.

"Oh really?" he asked, leaning closer. "Because it's not narcissism if I'm just being honest about how amazing I am. You, on the other hand..."

"I assure you, Stark, that you are not doing yourself any favors," Loki said, but he didn't seem upset in the least. His head shifted to the side, and the sunlight dazzled the scarred half of his face not covered with the shadow from Tony.

"My apologies," Tony answered with mock servility. "However can I make it up to you?"

"Hmm..." Loki hummed, as if he was thinking hard about it. "I think the only proper recourse is for you to admit every way in which I'm better than you."

Tony chuckled. "The only thing you have better than me is that ridiculously long hair of yours."

Loki tutted. "You'll have to do better than that if you want my forgiveness."

"You want better?" Tony asked with a grin. "I can show you better."

He leaned down farther, but when there were still inches between his face and Loki's, he was stopped by a hand on his chest. He paused, looking down at Loki, and while the man was still smiling, it was smaller, and he shook his head.

Tony frowned, and Loki mistook the reason behind it. The man's smile faded and he began to scoot out from beneath Tony. But before he got to far, Tony gently reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping Loki, though his grip was soft enough that the other could pull free if he wanted to. Loki shot him a confused glance, but beneath it was also apprehension, as if he thought his request would be ignored.

"Loki, listen," Tony said, unsure of how to ask, but the idea had been sitting in his head ever since Romanov had told him that his attraction would go unanswered. He had hoped she was mistaken, but her words held true; Loki never initiated anything beyond teasing Tony, getting into the man's personal space just to rile him up. He showed no inclination of wanting anything more, no matter how much time had passed.

When Tony took too long to continue, Loki eased himself onto his elbows, still set to run, and said, "I'm listening."

Tony took a deep breath, and then he barreled forwards. "Did someone hurt you? Is that... Is that why you keep pulling away?"

At first, Loki looked confused by his question, then indignant, and then he just looked weary. The man shook his head. "No one hurt me, Tony. Not in the way you're thinking."

Tony felt entirely justified not believing him right then; it wouldn't be the first time Loki kept something bottled up and hidden out of pride. "If someone did, you know I wouldn't think any less of you, right? And I'll never-"

"Tony, stop," Loki said, and he obediently went quiet. Loki sighed. "It's not like that, okay? There's no grand explanation for why I don't want a physical relationship. I just don't like it, and I never have."

Tony's eyebrow shot up. "But, you had to have at least tried, right?"

"No, I haven't," Loki said, his voice final. "And I don't want to."

Then Loki, assuming that Tony's silence meant the man was displeased with the answer, slipped his wrist free from Tony's hold and started to haul himself up. Tony stopped him again. "You know I don't care about that, right?" he asked, meeting Loki's eyes, bolstered by the uncertainty that was there when it shouldn't be. "I mean, sure, you're pretty fucking hot, but that's not why I like you."

Loki's tense muscles eased, though his expression was disbelieving. "It doesn't bother you that I can't return your affections?" he asked hesitatingly. "I'm not going to change my mind, you know. Not in a year. Not in twenty."

"I'm not asking you to," Tony said, and then he climbed to his feet, pulling Loki out of his awkward half crouch. "What we have now? It's pretty damn nice, and it will still be in twenty years, even if nothing changes."

As Tony spoke, Loki's doubting expression slowly gave way to a smile. "You are a fine person, Tony Stark," Loki said, and then, after a second passed, his lips twisted into a mischievous grin. "Even if your engineering skills need a lot more work."

Loki spun from Tony's grasp, leaving the sputtering man behind to walk back up the hill to where Lockheart was waiting. When Loki had gotten halfway up, Tony finally recovered, and he hurried after the man, shouting, "Yeah? Well I'd like to see you do better!"

XXX

Bruce is working when Tony skips back into the smithy. Bruce says he guesses that it worked, and Tony is like, 'yep.' And he's just sort of floating he's so happy, and Bruce just shakes his head and gets back to work, leaving Tony to be all sappy and accomplished feeling. Eventually Tony calms down, and he is making tweaks to the armor. But he says that he should be able to fight in this. He can keep up with the dragons, and once he gets the weapons set up, he should be good to go.

Then Bruce points out that Tony isn't military, and that he'd get killed. But Tony, brought down from his euphoria, shrugs and says they'll all die anyway, since no one can stop the Chitauri. Bruce saw Loki – the General has no hope. No one does.

XXX

Things are going south pretty quickly now that the Chitauri have a portal in Odessa. In Stuttgart, they are now facing serious attacks from the pushing boundary. The Corp there are fight back, but they are losing despite their numbers. And there's also the fact that the Chitauri seem to know everything that they are going to do before they do it. They are failing. The army is coming from Vanaheim to help, led by Sif.

XXX

Bucky wakes up from a nightmare, disrupting Steve. And since Bucky can't go back to sleep, they both leave to wander around. Then they see Rumlow, and before Steve can greet him, Bucky silences Steve and motions him to be quiet. They watch Rumlow talk to someone, a lower rank soldier, and they mention orders and time-tables, and how there's been too much damage to build a base, which they need to. And Rumlow says he's working on it, and that he has a plan. He'll talk to the damn bugs.

Then Rumlow starts walking off, and Bucky drags Steve into the shadows as the other soldier passes. They follow Rumlow into the city, and Rumlow goes into this bar he's fond of, the Twin-headed Snake. Bucky breaks them in through a window, and they sneak pass the main room, which is raunchy but there's also a lot of people armed littered through the mess. They hear Rumlow talking, and they enter the room to see him speaking with a Chitauri that is locked behind bars. It's staring at Rumlow emptily, but they know that means it's the queen paying extra attention. And now they know why the Chitauri know their plans, and there's a big attack tomorrow...

They need to get out of there, inform people that the Twin-headed Snake is a Hydra cover, get the people there captured and weed out the weak links. But Bucky is fighting with his own demons, and he steps wrong, and he makes a noise as they are leaving. And Rumlow sees them, and his eyes widen, and he pulls a gun and starts shooting. They dodge, but then they are trapped between Rumlow and the forces upstairs. And Steve- Steve isn't fit for this. He can fight, but he's frail, and he's not been feeling well lately from working too much.

Bucky is about to lunge for Rumlow when he hears people coming down the stairs, drawn by the commotion, and so Bucky makes the choice to try and flee now while the ones upstairs aren't prepared. He shoves Steve towards the stairs while firing at Rumlow. As Rumlow gets under cover, Bucky makes for the stairs, flinging around the bend and gets there just as the crowd sees Steve, who's got his jaw clenched and a gun out. And Steve fires at them while continuing to run, shoving out into the main floor.

Bucky follows after, keeping an eye on them as they head out. But then, just as they nearly make it, a bullet goes through Bucky's side, and he stumbles. But then Steve is there, protecting his back, and Bucky pulls himself together and gets them out of there. They run back to the barracks, but Bucky is wounded, and he can't keep going, and Steve can't carry him. Hydra is crawling the streets, and they have to hide in a cart as agents rush past. Bucky is dizzy and feels like shit, and Steve is frantic. Then as Bucky bleeds, the blood slips down the wagon, pooling on the ground.

XXX

Jasper is on the hunt for Bucky and Steve. They believe the two have not gotten to the barracks, not with the way one of them was bleeding, but the blood trail got interrupted and it's hard to see in the dark. But they have to be somewhere, so they are looking, waving away concerns saying that it wasn't a big deal, just looking for a couple of thieves. Then they are passing by an alley when the moonlight catches on a puddle of red, and they stop. The team fans out, thinking they have the upper hand. Bucky is wounded and Steve is weak; Rumlow said he's nothing to fear. But as they raise their guns to fire at the cloth covering, Rumlow is proven wrong. Steve comes flying out like a wild thing, his arms smeared with blood that isn't his, and is shielding the cart while shooting at them. And Jasper is just trying to keep up as one by one his party is taken down, until he's the only one left, and not wanting to die, he drops his gun and throws his hands up. In exchange for his life, which would have been forfeit anyway and will be once Hydra gets to him, he agrees to give them information and help get Bucky out of there. He's been disagreeing with Hydra lately anyway.

With Jasper's help, they get Bucky, who is unconscious and bleeding out, back to the barracks. When they get there, they find Rumlow has beaten them, and he, along with some other Hydra agents, are swarming the area and the Howling Commandos are there, being told that Steve and Bucky are traitors.

Steve, knowing they have to get Bucky help now and infuriated at Rumlow who betrayed him, leaves Jasper to guard Bucky and storms forwards, accusing Rumlow and the other Hydra agents. And both sides turn on each other, the Commandos trusting Steve and outraged by Bucky's blood on him. There's a fire fight, and eventually, the Hydra agents are dead, including Rumlow. Then Steve follows by Bucky's side as he is brought inside to be healed, and Jasper is taken to a cell, passing by the dead bodies and thinking that he's still better off this way.

XXX

Romanov and Loki go to Stuttgart, Romanov to speak to Sitwell and Loki to check in on her team and see if he needs to assign someone else to Steve and Bucky's post. Romanov comes with her, and they enter the sick room to see Steve talking quietly with Bucky, who looks exhausted, both physically and mentally, but is weakly joking with Steve, who looks just as wasted. They look up to see their friends come in, and they both smile. Bucky says it's been a while, and he should have gotten shot to see them sooner.

Then they chat, and Loki asks if Bucky thinks he can fly soon. Bucky is grimacing each time he moves, but he says he doesn't have much of a choice, does he? Give him a bit, and he'll get back to flying as soon as he can. Nat then leaves and goes to Jasper, who is sitting on a mat in a prison cell. He looks up when she comes in and recognizes her. She talks to him, verifying that he is telling the truth, and they get the names of a lot of Hydra agents. But Nat also knows that this will make them more reckless and violent as they get pinned down. And Sitwell admits that he doesn't know everything; he's relatively low ranked, and he hasn't been to Midgard in a while.

Then Loki, who had been talking to the other riders and trying to figure out what to do, comes back down to join her. She says she'll wait until Nat is down, but Nat is like 'I'm done now'. And as they head back to the dragons and board, Nat asks what they'll do. Loki says Sam will come back here, and that they could bring someone in from another town, but they ought to not. Then he mentions that Stark will hopefully be able to take some of the slack, and Nat is like 'what do you mean?' and Loki tells her about the suit, but while he is confident in Tony, Nat isn't so sure. Loki has a point, however, that they must take what they can get.

XXX

Jane is working in Midgard on a portal, trying to connect back to Asgard. She's working in the courtyard, and she can hear Loki coaching Tony on fighting not to far over. She hasn't been sleeping much, ideas stirring in her mind, and she needs to figure it out now more than ever. But she feels like she is on the cusp, just a few more tweaks. And as she works, things start coming together, and she studies her notes, remembers what she had been told about Yggdrasil.

And then she suddenly gets it, and the portal creator starts churning, causing faint blue light, and she is thrilled. She powers down the machine and hurries to where the others are, and they pause, Tony in the middle of firing at Loki, who's darting around the sky in a dragon, and when they give her their attention, she like 'I know how they open the portals!'

XXX

Sif and her army arrive in Stuttgart to find poorly controlled panic. There's a sort of red scare, and things are chaotic. Her and her army also come under speculation, which she thinks is ridiculous because most of the forces she brought are Aesir cast out from their home. It's a small army, but strong. People also hate them though because not all As are in the army; some have no interest in what happens as long as they get to go back home. But more and more are realizing that to get home, they must kill the Chitauri.

XXX

Tony has worked a long day, after fighting and mending Loki's dragon. He hadn't expected war to be what it is; living it is different. And exhausted, he ends up sleeping that night in Loki's room, because he doesn't want to go home, and when he was gonna take Bucky and Steve's room, Loki said there was no need; his bed was nicer. But Loki makes it clear they are just going to sleep, and Tony doesn't mind. He passes out right away, anyway.

XXX

Jasper is in his cell, kind of regretting his actions and not. He's gathered that Bucky has lived and will recover fine, which he guess is good, but his colleagues are all getting killed. And that means they are pissed at him. Then his dinner comes in, and he's eating, thinking about how he'll be lucky that Hydra doesn't get to him. And then he feels funny, light-headed and like he's not drawing in air. He was poisoned, and as the guard outside is ordering him to stop what he's doing, he collapses and dies.

XXX

Romanov meets up with the Guardians of the Galaxy. They are helping put the info she has into use, hunting down any people who are trying to flee and finding the links to get people Sitwell didn't know about. But now there's a lot of pissed of Hydra agents trying to kill him, so she's trying to secure his removal. But then as they get back to the prison, there's a lot of panic, because Sitwell was just found dead. Romanov goes to find him, sees the food, and is really concerned, because if they can poison Sitwell, they can poison others- like Bucky.

So she runs off, and the Guardians start handling stuff to, and when she gets to the infirmary, Steve and Bucky are talking, about to eat, and she's like 'no, stop it!' and so they do, and while she isn't sure if the food is poisoned, she gets rid of it, and they crack down on the building. But they don't find the killer, so she implements tighter security and has more obvious guards put to keep an eye out for Steve and Bucky while they are grounded.

XXX

Jane gets told she can't test a portal in case it lets in the Chitauri. Jane doesn't agree. So Jane pulls Darcy away from her duties to go and do a bit unauthorized test to restore the bridge, because Jane had studied portals and thinks she can reopen the main one.

Jane stared at the glimmering in the sky in shock. "Are you seeing this?" she asked, tearing her gaze away to look at Darcy, to get reassurance that she wasn't just imagining things.

Darcy was staring at the sky in shock. "I can't believe you actually did it," she responded, and Jane slapped her arm before her attention was drawn in by the coruscating lights overhead. There was a soft hum on the air, and as the lights brightened, it grew louder until the air itself was ringing.

"Is it supposed to sound like that?" Darcy shouted over the noise, and from behind her, Taser shifted in position to fight, it's mouth building up with a faint glow.

"I checked my data a hundred times," Jane said in reply, but she watched the sky warily, drawing her cloak tighter around herself. She hoped she didn't just give the Chitauri another vantage point from which to destroy Earth. If they set up a hive so close to Midgard, she doubted they'd be able to win.

Suddenly regretting her decision, she started walking towards the rattling machine beneath the thickest of the lights, intending to turn it off and stop the bridge before it could form. But she only have it three steps before there was a resounding crack and the light in the sky coalesced into one point that then shot towards the ground, making a pillar of light that cut through the heavens and seared the ground.

Jane threw her arm in front of her face, shielding her eyes, and as the ground at her feet cracked, she felt a metal jaw close around her hood and yank her back. She stumbled, and as she retreated, the glow started to fade and the droning in the air faded back into silence.

"Holy shit," Jane heard Darcy swear, and the grip on her cloak vanished, and Jane fell back against Taser's chest. Then she blinked the green and black spots away from her eyes and looked up.

Her breath fled her lungs, and she echoed Darcy's sentiment with a disbelieving, "By the Norns."

Though it had been over a decade since she had last seen him, he stood before her appearing no different than he had then. The only thing that had changed was his hair was longer. Otherwise, the Prince of Asgard was untouched by time, and when he looked upon her, she felt ancient by comparison, even though he had lived for a millennium already.

But when Thor smiled at the sight of her, she felt as if only a day had passed since he had left, promising to return in a few days only for the Chitauri to claw their way through the ether and destroy the Bifrost to create their own portals.

"Lady Jane," he said, and a moment later, she was being pulled into a large hug, his arms solid around her but not tight enough to hurt. It took a second for her mind to catch up, still not able to believe that not only had she succeeded, but that Thor was there, with her, but once it did, she freed her arms and hugged him back.

"I thought I'd never see you again," she said

XXX

Jane and Darcy bring Thor back to Midgard, ecstatic that the portal works and thinking Thor can help them fight the Chitauri. Thor is aghast to hear about what has happened on Earth since he has been blocked from it, and he feels guilty. But what he really wants is to see Loki, because last they met, Loki was falling into a portal and some unknown enemy was spilling out onto Earth.

Then when he gets there, they go to find Loki. They see Tony, who is working on the dragon, and he's like 'who is this?' and when he learns it is Thor, who Loki had talked about, he's like 'oh shit'. And Thor can't think too much on this because suddenly, Loki is there, not paying attention, but when he looks up to talk to Tony, he freezes, eyes falling on Thor. And they have a brother pow-wow, and while Loki had felt anger at his brother, he more of feels guilt for himself. Thor had done no wrong, he had. And Thor, Thor forgives him. Thor hugs him. And Loki eventually relaxes into his arms.

XXX

Tony can't bring himself to feel jealous that Thor and Loki spend a lot of time talking in private. He's glad that Loki gets to put that behind him, at least. He spends more time at the smithy with Bruce, since he had been sleeping with Loki at the barracks and was doing a lot of missions. Things are going to change now that the portal is open. Already, there's a lot of movement of the Aesir. A lot in Vanaheim are going back home, which causes some resentment, but there's also those like Sif who stay and seek more As allies. Some call Earth home just as much as they do Asgard. So while Odin might not get involved, some do care.

XXX

Thor insists that Loki visits his father now that a portal to Asgard has been open. It had been over a decade, after all, and they split at a bad time. But while Loki had sought to please his father, and had at first strove to win the war to make up his mistake and please his dad, he now has found more purpose. But he goes anyway, to the place where no human can ever set foot, and meets with his father.

He finds then that his dad, who he had once seen as grand, he now sees as a coward. That any As who does not fight is a coward. And then he leaves. He has a war to win. Odin is furious, says then that he should never come back. But as Loki is about to enter the Bifrost, his mother is there. And when his mother asks if he'll come back, Loki is softer and says maybe one day. He can't sit back anymore, though. Not when so much of his friends- first friends -have died in the war. Not when it was his fault. And his mother hugs him, saying she is so glad that he has grown.

XXX

Malekith is with his people, visiting in the small amount of time he has between war, and looking at their tired faces, he decides that he cannot let this occur any longer. He gathers people and they go towards the Chitauri, and though Algrim resists, Malekith ignores him. And Algrim is hard pressed to find the man he had loved, the man he had sworn to follow to the ends of the earth, inside that jaded visage. But Malekith had lost his wife and children in the first wave, had seen his people torn apart. And so Algrim had let this happen. And even now, as Malekith makes a deal with Hydra, who had made deals with them before, and meets with a knight and drone, saying that they will aide the Chitauri, he does not resist strong enough, even though a part of him vehemently resists this.

XXX

Bucky has recovered, and they go with the others to Midgard, see the rest of the crew. There's a huge meeting as they try to figure out what to do. They aren't certain who they can trust, but they believe that they have gotten rid of many of the HYDRA agents. They are working with Malekith, a light elf, and the dwarves. Because the Chitauri have gotten in so deep, and they now have the benefit of Aesir, they decide to try attacking Thanatos again. Jane thinks they should wait til they can close some portals, but people say there isn't time. Everyone who can fight shows up, and they pull their forces in, leaving the borders weak. Then it is time to march.

XXX

They commence the war, and Loki and Tony are on the front lines. Loki is commanding his fighters, and all of the dragons are there, raining death upon the Chitauri. They move in tight formations, watching after one another. They pass through the border towns, getting closer and closer to Thanatos.

Then things go wrong. The dark elves in their ranks turn on their allies, and as they are freaking out about that, more elves comes with the Chitauri, from areas they had thought secure, and start pinning down their army. As the dragons try to clear it out, they are attacked by missiles from the ground. Then, other machines come into the sky, and they are mockeries of the dragons they ride, a mixture of science and artificial, vile magic. It looks like the Chitauri had finally figured it out, although they are not even close to as good. Once the Chitauri realize that, they start attacking to capture. And in the chaos, Loki gets hit. He tries to hold on, but he's torn away, and he falls from the sky with Lockheart.

XXX

"Loki!" Tony screamed, trying to fly in closer, but he was almost out of fuel, and his suit sputtered as he tried to breach the veil of smoke. "Loki!"

He thought he saw a glint of gold and he veered towards it, but he was still in the middle of a war zone; the Chitauri fired at him, a vibrant target in the midst of the unnatural night, and their bullets slammed into his armor, battering the air from his lungs and bruising his flesh. He didn't want to let that stop him, refused to let that stop him, but then one of the Chitauri's monsters, the twisted version of their own dragons, jerked towards him. Though it lacked the same finesse as the dragons, it's entire frame shook as it moved, as if it'd fall apart any second, it was enough to ram Tony backwards, and the glint of gold he had thought he had seen was covered by ash.

Not caring that he was practically out of fuel, Tony put more power to his rockets and shoved back against the leviathan. Both the beast and his armor made pathetic grinding noises, but Tony would not let a piece of scrap beat Iron Man; he rammed his fist down into the machine, grabbing at any gears he could and smashing them. The black, swirling wrongness within the construct thrashed as the pieces were torn out, and it tried to hold the machine together, but Tony tore it apart more than it could compensate for. He didn't care that his armor was getting dented and smashed as it jammed between pieces, or that after a while, his fist came back covered in bright red. Nor did he really care when the leviathan started to fall towards the ground, finally destroyed.

What he did care about was the Chitauri swarming the ground beneath them, visible as the thick cloud of smoke started to dissipate, the fire having already burned through all of what it could consume. Once again he saw the gold of Lockheart, so dented and mangled that were he not so familiar with the machine, he wouldn't have known what it was. But the dragon was not what the Chitauri had wanted; no, it was the limp figure next to it, the blood visible even though Tony was still so far away.

The aliens grabbed at Loki roughly, not meeting any resistance as the general's head lolled, his limbs spread like broken wings. They started to drag him away, and Tony felt anguish and fury deep within him, not sure which was stronger.

"Loki!"

Tony wanted to go and save him- would have gone and saved him, no matter how many enemies, no matter the risk -but that decision was taken from him as his suit's rockets wheezed and died. He was still shouting the other man's name as gravity snatched him from the air and started to drag him down into the darkness, and the smoke thickened, seeping into his mask and choking him, until his cry couldn't squeeze past his throat.

A part of him wanted to hit the ground, so then he would be near Loki. He ignored the fact that if he hit, he would have become nothing more than a bloody smear. He thought that he would have climbed to his feet and fought the Chitauri away, even if his armor was no longer powered, now a prison around him instead of a weapon. If he could just get within reach, he could think of something. He could drag Loki to safety, and they could be free of the smoke and the flames.

But he never did hit the ground.

XXX

Though Tony is fighting to stay, their army is in ruins, the dwarves need to return to defend their home, and the dragons have been damaged. Some are ruined, and their fighters have been grounded. Some are dead. So they pull back, leaving Loki, leaving others.

XXX

Algrim is standing in the wreckage as their enemy flees, and so many humans and dwarves are dead. And maybe, maybe he could have forgiven that, but his kin, the light elves, were killed to. The dark elves were killed. Sure, maybe more of them lived this way, but Malekith was bringing them to death in some misguided effort to save them. And Algrim cannot abide this anymore. He confronts Malekith, saying it has to stop, that this is madness. But Malekith is to far gone, and he says that he'll kill Algrim if Algrim doesn't obey. And Algrim says he can't. So Malekith, standing with his desperate kin, covered in so much blood, says he will let Algrim leave because of what they had shared, but if he sees Algrim again, he will kill him.

XXX

Romanov is riding in the wagon back. Their fleeing, but moving slow. It'll be another day before they reach Midgard, and all who are able are protecting the caravan. But those who are able are few. Romanov is bruised, her head pounding, and Clint is lying in the wagon, his leg broken badly. He passed out an hour ago, and Natasha wishes she could join him.

But she can't stop thinking of how wrong things went, thinking about the others who had died. And Loki- they all knew what it meant that the general was gone, and the chances of him being dead were little. A part of her wishes that he's dead, if only for him to be spared. And she looks over at Steve and Bucky, both of them flying back, the dragon not going too high above them, its wings beating slow. The other commandos and Peggy- who lost one of their own -are flying with them, except for the one who has no dragon any longer.

Then there's Tony, who was walking on the other side, as distant from the group as he could get. He was angry at them for leaving Loki behind, and ashamed for letting Loki fall, and torn to bits by his friend's absence. But he's not the only one sad, and Nat considers going to join him, even though she doesn't want to get up, but before she does, Thor comes up and joins him. Tony is stiff at first, but as Thor speaks, Tony loses his lone man armor, and starts talking back. But after a while, they both fall silent, and in the whole caravan, almost no one is saying anything. The only words are orders and offered food, with Hill trying to keep the riders together.

XXXX

Loki wakes up strapped to a chair, and she moans, her entire body aching. There is a drone in the corner, staring at her with a gun in its hand, and she glares at it, but inside, she is frightened. Her people were dying, and she doesn't know how badly they lost. But if she asked, she knew it'd be weak.

She tries to muster her strength, but her energy is low from healing her body, and the ache in her limbs, especially her hip, has come back. And she wants to change her body, the unwanted flatness of her chest, but she cannot spare the energy. Another form of torture, she supposes. Then a knight comes in and starts interrogating her, and she refuses to cooperate, trying to get information on her friends. The Chitauri had to have lost for them to be needing her, so she remains strong.

"How do you operate the dragons?" the Chitauri asked again, its voice flat and gravely. If it cared at all for Loki's blood that was now oozing to the floor, it did not show it, not sympathy nor cruelty.

Heaving in gasping breaths, Loki raised her head to glare at it. Then, gathering the blood that had pooled in her mouth, she spat at the creature's feet. "Go to hell," she said, and the she braced herself for the blow that she knew would follow.

This time, she could not hold back a ragged gasp as the whip came down against her, but then she clenched her jaw, holding in the scream that wanted to rise from her throat. Even as more blows followed, creating overlapping welts that wept red before they could heal, she did not bow. If they thought that pain could break her, they were wrong. She had failed her land once; she wouldn't fail it again.

XXX

Hill is meeting with other generals. A lot of people are dead, and there's holes in their ranks. They discuss what they should do, and she's in charge of the Corp now that Loki is gone, and they need to protect their borders, because the elves will move on them, and the Chitauri will recover quickly. But their ranks are thin, and they are demoralized. They need to train more troops, to do something.

XXX

Tony has gone back to his smithy, and he tries to work on his suit. And Bruce is there, but Tony doesn't want to hear his support. Except he does, he really, really does, and he doesn't know what to do. But he hopes that he can do something more if he fixes his suit, makes it better. He can't let that happen again.

XXX

A week has passed, and they have made the choice to not get Loki. And Tony is forced to accept this. And so they instead set to doing the best they can, rallying their defense and trying to hang on to give Thanatos another try.

Jane sat at the edge of the mayhem, having no interest in being drawn into the furious shouting and pacing that was occurring in the center of the room. She checked the pocket watch in her hand; it had been an hour already, and yet no one seemed to show any inclination of calming down, or, if not that, of at least collapsing in exhaustion. But Thor was an As, and Tony... She has never seen him more agitated, and for him, that was saying something.

"It has already been a week; we need to mount an attack and get him back!" Tony insisted as he spun on his heel, marching back towards where the military's elite had gathered. He had long since given up any pretense of caring about decorum.

The only one who still had the patience for Tony's obstinance was his friend, Colonel Rhodes. "If we attack now, all we'll do is lose more troops. We need to recover before we can even consider launching an attack on Thanatos."

"So we're just going to leave him there?" Tony demanded. "He's your general- aren't you supposed to care what happens to him?"

Instead of rising to the bait, Rhodes just sighed. "Tony, everyone in this room cares about Loki, but we can't sacrifice everything for just one person."

Tony let out a frustrated groan, and he turned around again, shoving his hand through his hair and then gripping at the roots and pulling at them. But though he seemed too frustrated to speak, they were not granted with silence; more voices rose to take his place.

"The longer Loki remains in their captivity, the more we risk him breaking under their interrogation," Romanov said from the opposite wall, her arms crossed protectively in front of her chest, and she didn't lift her head as she spoke, letting her unbound hair fall in front of her face. "He's not just a regular soldier- he knows more about the workings of the Dragon Corp than anyone in this room. We can't have the Chitauri gaining that information."

"Loki will never help the enemy," Thor said, his voice artificially quiet; he gripped Mjolnir as if hanging onto it for dear life. That, or he gripped it as if it was the enemy's throat.

"They don't give you much of a choice," Bucky muttered, so quiet Jane could hardly hear him. He hunched in deeper on himself as their eyes fell on him, and he automatically looked to his right, but Steve was still in the sickroom, and even though the man wanted to come- and had tried to -his body was too weak for him to get more than a foot from his cot.

Clint spared Bucky from any unwanted attention. "We at least know that the Chitauri won't kill Loki. He's too valuable to them."

"Letting them torture him isn't any better," Tony said, finally gathering himself enough to speak again. "I can't let that happen to him."

"That what are you proposing we do?" Maria Hill asked, her fingers crossed on the table and her chin resting on them. The pose, however, was less of an intimidation factor than her too exhausted to sit at full height.

"If we can't send an army after him, then I'll rescue him myself," Tony declared, clenching his fists. "I won't let him get torn apart."

XXX

A month has passed. They lost Stuttgart to the elves and Chitauri. Now almost all riders are in Midgard, though many are wounded and really not fit for flying. Steve had come down with lung issues and a high fever, and he's just now on the mend. But he's gonna got out and fly before he's better, even if he does cough the whole time. Hill is now General, and they obey her without protest. And she tries to give them breaks, but the enemy is barricading them in. Resources are low. They have to fly out to other towns, but getting to them is hard. And there's Knowhere that slips them supplies, but if they are caught from doing it to much, then they lose a valuable station.

XXX

Thor goes to Asgard, desperately trying to get more help. Tony doubts he'll get anyone. But then he comes back with his mother, who has a fierce expression and says she'll help them fight and get her child back.

XXX

The torches wavered before his eyes as they led him deeper into the compound, and his steps were sluggish, not just for the metal confining his limbs. The gashes along his back and chest were now hot to the touch, and he knew that infection had set in. But though his body felt like it was running on nothing, he had too much pride to let them drag him to whatever knew torture they had concocted.

The cold settled into Loki's bones and pumped through his veins, quelling the harsh burn of pain that had been threatening to consume him. For a moment, his mind went blank in sheer relief, and he clunk to the cold that made itself a part of him like a second skin. His body went slack in the water, his body sinking as fever became blessed chill, and the colder his body grew, the more alive he felt, more than he had since he first arrived here.

Through the film of red-tinted ice water, he watched as the Chitauri chittered to each other, one's hands tensing on the chains, preparing to pull Loki back out before he could drown. He almost wished they'd leave him, but as the breath in his lungs became useless, he was yanked up to the surface where he gulped in warm air, hating how it pushed away the cold in his body.

Held only by the chains around his neck, Loki could do little but hand there as the human leaned his face into his and asked, "Will you cooperate, or should we put you back in to freeze to death?"

This time, Loki felt no apprehension as he inevitably pissed his captors off. "I had thought your organization was more ingenious than this. No wonder you've not been able to figure out how the dragons work after all this time."

His wide grin was swallowed by the frigid water, and he felt his power, beaten from him and unable to return in the cusp of illness, stir back to the surface. It wasn't much, but it was more than he had felt in the countless days he had been there. Each time they threw him back in, he felt more like a general, a hero of the war, and less like a prisoner, a victim of a punishment that was a long time in coming.

But after a while, his captors began to notice that their torture was doing to opposite they had intended. Loki had attempted to act like it was bothering him, but when his skin did not ache and his muscles did not shiver, they started growing angry. Though he tried to hide it, Loki also knew that his skin was bluing, and not in a way of cold. He tried to force the effect now, but he couldn't do it well enough; just before the Chitauri dumped him back into the water, the Hydra minion stopped it with a frown.

"Wait," he said, leaning in towards Loki, peering at his skin. Loki quickly tried to flush his skin pale white while he kept his face neutral, but the man looked at him and hummed thoughtfully.

"Get one of you that can talk to me in here," he ordered.

The Chitauri in the room chittered to let the man know the queen had heard his order, and a moment later, two Chitauri entered the room, and he knew immediately that one of them was far more than just a drone. It looked upon him in more than just a mindless daze, a unique mind churning under the hood that cloaked it.

"What do you require?" the warrior hissed, coming up to them; it spared Loki but a glance.

"Why did you not tell me your prisoner was a Jotun?" he asked. "It seems like pertainent information, doesn't it?"

There was a pause as the information was processed by the drones, passed through the queens, and spat back out. A drone clicked at the warrior, who then turned to stare at Loki, its eyes narrowed, but the blue had already vanished from Loki's hands, and the glass was too murky to make out the blue that had set in his feet.

The warrior hissed, and the Chitauri holding Loki out of the water let him plunge back in, and he took in a hasty breath just before he fell under. They kept him there for almost a minute, in which his lungs burned harshly despite how comforting the water felt, and he knew that when they pulled him out, he'd not be able to hide the blue that thoroughly crept onto his hands and towards his wrist.

At last they pulled him partway out of the water, and he sucked in a desperate breath. Then he heard the warrior's outrage as it took in his unmistakable blue skin.

It hissed out an order, and while Loki didn't know what it said, the meaning was clear enough; they started to tug him from the pool. As Loki's chest was pulled onto the platform, he felt his strength start to recede again, and in a jolt, he knew he would not feel like this again. If he was bidding his time, waiting for a chance for the Chitauri to slip up, this was it.

Before he could be fully pulled from the tank, Loki gathered the strength in his limbs and yanked his arms back, breaking the pulley and dragging the unexpecting Chitauri on the other end of the chains to stagger to the edge of the tank. Before the creature could draw its weapon to defend itself, Loki jerked his arms to the side, slamming the chain into its legs and bringing it into the tank with him as the metal brought him farther down.

The water muted the angry hissing from the other side of the glass, but Loki ignored them for now. The glass would protect him temporarily, and they would not want to kill him. Instead, as his feet reached the bottom, he focused on the chill within him, even deeper than the one the water gave him. It had been a long time since he allowed his Jotun heritage to come to the surface, but now, he not only let it out, but he bolstered it, letting his skin become sapphire and feeling his skin warp as lines rose across his skin and curved horns rose from the corners of his forehead.

The tank of water started to freeze over, the chunks of ice growing until they were solid, surrounding Loki in a sphere of ice. The Chitauri he had dragged into the water shrieked, air bubbling out of its mouth, and was captured in the ice, its chest freezing until it stopped moving.

One life was not enough to pay back for the suffering the Chitauri had caused Loki, had caused Bucky, had caused the millions that he had roped into his war, that were hurt because he had been greedy and selfish. The ice kept growing, spreading out of the tank and sliding across the floor, forcing the Chitauri guards to scuttle backwards. The metal encasing Loki's limbs became brittle, and he twisted his arms to the side, shattering the shackles that bound him. The ones around his ankles remained, but he tore apart the chain connecting them.

Then his air ran out, and cementing the ice beneath his feet, he shoved himself out of the layer of ice defending him from above. Immediately the noises that had been blurred became distinct, and the outraged noises of the warrior and drones, clicks and hisses, filled the air.

Bullets were fired at Loki, their apprehension of him outweighing their caution, and he lurched forwards, jumping off the platform and onto the ground, his feet sliding against the ice as he pulled back a clawed fist, ice collecting around his hand. The human was the first to die, and then he methodically shoved past each Chitauri in his way, putting them down with as much force as he could spare. He knew some hit the ground still alive, but he didn't have the time to kill them all. Besides, they were mere drones; killing them was nothing more than cutting off the tail of a gecko that would eventually grow back.

The drones were quickly dispatched, and the warrior, while it took a bit longer to take down, was also eliminated, leaving the doorway wide open. Heaving in a deep breath to push away the pain that was creeping back into his wounds that were mixing more red with the water and frozen droplets that coated his skin, he started to run down the hall in the direction from which they had dragged him.

However, the farther he got from the cold chamber, the less powerful he became, and the ice the sheathed his limbs started to crack, and as he followed a kick with a backhand hit, chunks fell to the ground. The landscape of frost gave way back into tile, and his limbs felt heavy as he ran down the hall towards.

He could hear the Chitauri rushing through the lower levels of the prison, mobilized by the queen to stop his escape, and Loki knew his time to act was shortening. He had to leap over the head of a drone, snapping its neck as he landed behind, and then, hearing footsteps pounding down the stairwell to the right, he pulled up tight into the corner, for now in the queen's blind spot as the Chitauri had yet to regroup to follow him from behind.

He tensed himself to fight, taking a deep breath and trying to force more ice to his skin, but it didn't want to form. Then he quieted his breathing as the Chitauri reached the landing, preparing to ambush them as they came around the corner.

But instead of coming after him, they kept going down the other set of stairs, heading deeper into the prison. Loki frowned; he knew they had to know about where he was, and he had no reason to retreat into the depths of the prison...

Unless, he realized, there was something down there they were worried that he wanted. As he came around the corner, looking at both sets of stairs, he had to make a decision: cripple a section of the army and most likely get recaptured in the attempt, or escape to come back and kill the queen another day.

'Or,' Loki thought as a squadron of Chitauri came up behind him, leveling their weapons at him, 'I might just die here and accomplish nothing.'

He knew that even if he got out of the prison, his chance of escaping Thanatos alive was practically nonexistent. It'd take a miracle for him to get out of the city and through the desert alive, and while he was many things, lucky was not one of them. But if he was going to die, at least he wouldn't die in vain.

"Surrender!" One of the Chitauri snapped, but Loki had already started running down the stairs, towards where a queen laid.

XXX

Tony is out fighting, trying to secure a line for supplies from another town along with a group of As, and as they are fighting, the Chitauri suddenly get really agitated, like someone stepped on their mound. And this is really odd for them, which means something is up with a queen, but they have no forces out against one. And Tony dares to think maybe, just maybe, Loki had done something. Because he has to cling to the fact that he's alive, even if he has no proof. There's no green light in the dark that he can watch.

XXX

Algrim lives in the city, but a lot of people hate him. Some don't, but many blame him even though he betrayed Malekith to come here. And Algrim doesn't want to kill is people – he came here to save his people. And there are some who defect to his side, but they are viewed with doubt and are treated as criminals, because Hydra had thought to be allies too. But Algrim keeps going, hoping he has made the right choice, knowing that he has to stop Malekith. And so he, knowing he has more compassion for his kin than the humans, leads the campaigns against his own people.

XXX

They need more dragons. The ranks are decimated, but the problem is that there aren't enough people left who can pilot them safely. But then it's like 'set them up in the middle of a Chitauri town, and who cares if it is safe?' Which is controversial, but does have some merit. So Hill goes and talks to Bruce, and he gives his two cents. It's taxing on the mage, because the dragon will consume all of their magic until it goes out, and they can't protect themselves. But maybe if they had armor, they could do it. It could be suicidal though. So then Hill assumes he isn't interested, but Bruce says that no, he'd be willing to do it. Just make sure no one innocent gets hurt.

XXX

The Chitauri change methods of torture, and they bring her to the burning chambers they use for unruly Jotun slaves.

Loki stumbled forwards, the spear poking into her back, cutting through her thin shirt and causing blood to dribble down her back, warm and sticky as it joined the dried red that already coated her skin and clothes. They stepped out from the building into the bright sun, and Loki winced, slitting her eyes against the glaring light.

Another push behind her made her keep walking, her shackles clacking loudly as she was shepherded down the cobble roadway. The early autumn wind howled through the streets, whistling around the Chitauri's towering structures, and brought Loki some small semblance of relief from the heat that raged through her body. She clung to that one small blessing, knowing that once they reached their location, she would have nothing.

Something inside of Bucky Barnes had died in that dungeon. Now it was dying inside of Loki.

XXX

The riders are out, setting up Bruce, the first of maybe more 'suicide riders'. They've built him a new dragon, this one styled for hulking out, and they set him loose in the middle of a city. And it actually goes quite well, though Bruce is exhausted by the end. They take him back home, where he passes out in the smithy.

XXX

Two more months pass. Jane is working on the portals, conferencing with other scientists. She is trying to learn how to close portals, not just open them. They are hesitant to experiment though, because it could close the Bifrost. There are As who can help, but many are not so happy to offer said help. Frigga is the one who will discuss with Jane, and they think they can close the Bifrost from a distance, but they have no proof it works on the other ones. So then they get a team, and it's like 'then let's so and try it'.

XXX

The Chitauri dropped her onto the floor of her cell, and she lacked the strength to do anything but fall where dropped. She heard the metal door clang shut behind the departing guard, but she could not find the strength to move to the bed roll in the corner, let alone lift her head.

They put a Jotun in a cell near Loki's, someone who is high ranking. It's Laufey, her father. He was recently captured, and his people are all but ruined. Some have fled into the coldest, harshest parts of the map, but the rest are enslaved or dying. And he says he doesn't recognize her, and she mentions that he wouldn't, because she had been taken by the Aesir when she was a baby. And Laufey doesn't reply, and Loki knows that he knows who she is. Then she turns over to sleep, regaining her strength for when they come for her again.

XXX

They do a raid on Stuttgart, putting a lot of force into it. And Jane is guarded by Frigga and Darcy. They fly in close enough, and Jane activates her machine. And everyone watches as the portal starts to waver, and then it explodes, going off a lot more violently than the Bifrost did. So now the Chitauri aren't getting reinforcements, so they are able to raze the town, taking out the queen there.

Thanks to the disruption force of closing the portal, another one cannot be opened promptly, and they use that time to destroy the generator. But they see the magic beasts there, and they are more dragon like, less unnatural, and they have red pumping through them and green mixed with the black. And Tony knows that this is what they are using Loki for.

XXX

A lot of time passes before Laufey speaks to Loki again. But he says that the Aesir were cruel in the persecution of his people. Loki snorts and says that he doesn't want to hear it. A part of him already knows. Always knew. But then Laufey continues and says that his people were wrong, too. They thought they could take what they wanted by force, and they never thought to integrate with other races. They always did things alone, too proud to rely on others, too proud to be different than the Aesir.

But now, they are dead, and what good does pride do? And Loki is quiet for a moment, and then he says that the Jotun are strong. They faced the brunt of the Chitauri for a long time, and they are still there, still thriving, even in the heat of the capital. Maybe they could push back one last time. They come up with the plan for a revolt of the Jotun slaves. If they die, then that is the end, but if they win, they can do something with themselves. They can rebuild.

XXX

Now that they can shut down portals, they can stop the spread of Chitauri. So they keep going, attacking them. Algrim is holding off the elves, and they are taking care of the Chitauri. For the first time since the war began, they reclaimed a city. And maybe now they can attack Thanatos. Tony is looking forwards to that; it has been so, so long since he has seen Loki.

XXX

Laufey is sowing the seeds of dissent in the Jotun. He gets the Jotun to start plotting to rebel. They are weak, but they see that they are not broken. And so Loki gets everything set up. When the time comes, they will have gathered themselves. They act broken now, stop lashing out, but they will rise when the signal is given. But Loki's time is also running out; they have his dragon, and though he doesn't talk, they pick at him, trying to find his magic. And they take blood, which they pump into their machines. They show him what they have made, beasts built with pieces of his own dragon, and so long as the runes are there, he supplies the dragons. And they will use those to retaliate, because he knows they are getting anxious, though they don't speak English in his presence, so he doesn't know why. But if they figure out the magic without him, and they seem to be, then they'll kill him.

XXX

Things are finally ready to go to Thanatos again. They are not doing a huge military campaign; just a quick attack to try and destroy the portal. Which is the exact same thing they tried to do at the beginning of the story, but this time, they have a better plan. So they go in and start fucking stuff up. They close one of the portals, and the Chitauri are livid, and things get chaotic, and the tides start turning against them. But then, there's something else happening, attacking the Chitauri.

XXX

Loki is in his cell when the noise starts. He's beyond weary, just had his blood taken, and he isn't sure how much more of this he can take. But then when he sees the Chitauri panic, he thinks that the revolt has started, which this wasn't the right time. Laufey is gone, and the other Jotun in the cells around him are also confused. So Loki picks himself up, rests his back against the wall, and waits to see what will happen.

Then the drones guarding the cells die, and Laufey shows up with others, and when Loki asks what is happening, he answers that there's dragons attacking the city, so they are revolting now. And Loki is excited to hear his friends are here, though he also fears for them. But they have their thing to do, and he has his own plan. He breaks out of his cell, and he gathers whatever strength he can and joins in the mayhem. The goal now is to take out as many queens as they can. Then, only then, can he go back home.

XXX

Romanov and Clint catch on quickly that the Jotun down below are revolting, and ice starts appearing in the desert, though in small amounts. But still, it is a show of power and resistance, and they start helping out, liberating the Jotun they can and telling the others to help. Then Jane gets to closing another portal. But now the Chitauri are pissed, and so many of them are coming out of the ground, and their magic dragons show up, forcing their team back.

So they start to retreat, or else they will die, and two out of three portals is great, even though the last one is the first one they had built and is the largest. There's also a lot of Chitauri trying to come through it. But as they pull back, having to abandon the idea of getting Loki- though many of them have the idea that he is in part responsible for the mess down below -they realize Stark is missing. So they swear and they have to go back, especially since a lot of them don't want to go without Loki.

XXX

Tony was never going to leave without Loki. He gets down to the ground, and he starts razing Chitauri and helping the Jotun. And he asks them where Loki is, and some don't really know who he is talking about, but others know that he's the one who had been held with Laufey. And they can't really tell Tony where Loki is, but Tony gets the gist that Loki is probably where most of the damage is. So he heads in there, guns a blazin, and then finally he sees someone who looks like Loki, and at first he doesn't believe it because they have blue skin, but then he realizes it is. Wounded and looking like hell, but alive and right there. And so he shouts Loki's name and runs towards him.

XXX

Loki hears his name and sees Tony, and he can hardly believe his eyes. And the man joins him as they go down and kill another Queen, and they don't really have time to catch up, though they both clearly want to just be together. Tony hugs Loki before they keep going. Then when they are done with that Queen, they surface, and while many drones are down, a lot of knights are there, and they recognize that if they don't leave now, they will all die.

So they get with Laufey and start shoving out, and other Jotuns come to them. They are guided/protected by the Corp flying above, and they break from the city heading towards Knowhere, which has now revealed they are less loyal to the Chitauri than they had appeared. And people come to help them, and they finally get away from Thanatos. Not a lot of Jotun made it, but they have some, and Thanatos is weaker than it has ever been since the Chitauri first came. Then Tony tries talking to Loki, and Loki passes out.

XXX

They are in Midgard, meeting around Loki's hospital bed. The god had yet to wake up, despite three days having passed, but they have been assured by a doctor that he'll be okay. He just needs some time to recover. Thor is standing to the side, and the chair right by Loki's head belongs to Tony. And Frigga is also there, stroking her child's hair. All of the people who love Loki are there, and they talk about what they need to do against Thanatos. They only have a small window before the portals can be reopened. They have forces putting pressure on the city, and they are going around closing portals anywhere to the West of the city that they can find, but what they really need to do is finish it once and for all. Laufey and most of his kin have taken a boat back to their homeland, but they are supposed to come back with more. They have joined the war. And the war with the elves and dwarves is coming to an end. Now they just need Loki to wake up and for things to come to a head.

XXX

When Loki wakes up, the only one still there is his mother. He is surprised, and then ashamed of his skin, but she tells him to not cover it. She had seen the others, seen his father, and she regrets thinking that they were all evil. She says then that they had stolen him. He was not abandoned, and it was something she regrets. But she loves her child, Jotun or not, and he should be proud of where he comes from. And Loki is. He fought with them, accepted them. And he has the same burns scars as them, both from the first raid on Thanatos and from the torture. Then Frigga says that there is a kind young man who had been very eager to see him, as well as his brother. A lot of people, really, and she's so proud of him.

XXX

Algrim comes to the city. He is meeting with Loki, Laufey, and other leaders. It's a very restricted, serious meeting. Loki looks like hell, as do most of the other Jotun (Loki is remaining blue), but he's insistent that they attack. And Algrim needs to finish Malekith once and for all. They make plans to attack in two days, once everyone is ready. Jane says if they wait any longer, the portals will reopen. So Algrim goes with his people, his renegades, and says that they must kill Malekith, must stop his madness. They have to reclaim their home, but not by killing everyone. Just Malekith. And so he prepares himself for the final fight.

XXX

Tony leaves the smithy with his bag all packed up, says his goodbyes to Bruce, goes to say his goodbyes to Pepper, and then he goes to the barracks. He is surprised to hear that Loki is in her room, and Tony goes to her, and he spends the night with Loki, they last night before the end. And he asks about the blue skin, and they talk for a long time. About what they had wanted, their regrets, what they will do when it is over. Then they sleep close together, until they wake to the call to go to war.

XXX

Darcy is in the front attack group, the ones that goes before the main army does. They are putting pressure on the Chitauri until the rest get there. It's hard and violent, and she's vastly overwhelmed, but they keep going. Thanatos starts burning. But the Chitauri have every weapon ready to go, every drone swarming. Their magic monstrosities are vicious, and more troops keep coming in through the rift that they have yet to close. Romanov, who has the most agile dragon, is going to bring the device to close the portal when the way is more clear, because surely the Chitauri will target her. But Darcy isn't sure they'll be able to push through. They hadn't realized just how much Chitauri there were, and they were making the last stand, too.

XXX

They march on Thanatos again, hopefully for the last time. Loki has no dragon, so he walks with Tony, who is saving fuel. They push a hard pace, and when they get close, their ranks move out and individual cells draw close. There's Jotun in each cell, and there's more that had traveled from the south. They also have the beserking dragons, though there are only a few of them, and they are to be used as last resorts. But to the north, there's the elves who have caused civil war. Algrim is going to them, cutting them off from attacking and trying to subdue the war. There is hope that he can succeed and can bring his forces back to the main fight. Then Loki and Tony's cell is moving into battle, and Tony armors up, and Loki gets icy. They enter the fray.

XXX

As the others are fighting, Algrim and his people go to meet Malekith. Algrim tries one last effort to convince Malekith to step down, but in response, Malekith's people attack. And so Algrim forces himself to fight back. Elves are killing elves. It accomplishes nothing. Not Algrim's goal, and certainly not Malekith's. But it's too late to pull back, so Algrim keeps going. The battle at their back, between Earth and Thanatos, is coming to a head, and it looks like Earth is pulling through. He sees the main portal close. But then he gets to Malekith, and they fight, but Algrim has hesitation where Malekith does not, and Malekith stabs him through the side of his chest. Algrim falls to the ground, dying, and it seems like he has failed to do anything. He got more of his people killed, and he couldn't even win. But a part of him is glad he didn't have to kill Malekith. But then, as Malekith is staring at Algrim, with regret or something close, he is stabbed, and he dies as Algrim dies, amidst the field of ruined elves.

XXX

Romanov is watching as the elves all sort of wind down to a stop, lost without either leader. Some still fight for their dogma, but the rest are seeing that what they had done was stupid. But then Romanov has to focus more on the battle before her. But as she's fighting, she gets attacked, and things go horribly wrong. There's agonizing pain in her leg, hip, pelvis. And her and the dragon are flung to the ground, it crushing down on her. And then there's a haze of pain, and enemies, but none get to her. And then Clint is there, freeing her, and he can't stay with her, he has to fight, but she gets passed around, and she vaguely recalls seeing her leg, snapped in completely wrong directions. Then she passes out as she is carted away.

XXX

Tony is fighting mostly with Loki, keeping him safe from the air, and they take down the monstrosities made from Loki's own magic, the twisted, perverted remains of Lockheart. Loki will never get that dragon back. And it is a brutal battle, but they are winning. They go for the queens, and more and more Chitauri drop off in droves. The father the battle goes, the less enemies there are, until they are storming the main citadel, the place of the first queens who had come to Earth. There's a lot of knights protecting them, but they get in, and they get to the queens, and they kill them, and the battle around them seriously drops off. There's still knights to clean up, but for the most part, they have annihilated their enemy.

XXX

After the battle, the leaders regroup. They meet outside the edge of Thanatos; they have forces going through and cleansing the last of the remaining enemies and making sure the drones are dead, the portal devices all smashed, and that the Chitauri will never be able to hack their way to Earth. But there's people who are missing. Algrim and Laufey are dead, and many dragon riders are injured. But they aren't to worst; land soldiers have been massacred. Then there's Romanov, who's missing her leg and had to be taken out of there. They need to figure out how to rebuild.

XXX

Loki and Tony are sitting at the edge of Romanov's hospital bed in the infirmary for the dragon Corp. There's a lot of them with issues, but none as bad as Romanov, who had to get her leg amputated. Then there's noise in the hall, and when they see what it is, there's some Jotun who came by. They want to talk to Loki. And it turns out Laufey made sure people knew Loki was of royal blood, even if he had been lost, and that he is by tradition the next ruler of Jotunheim. Loki is uncertain, but... He wanted a throne. That's what had started this mess. And maybe this is what was meant for him. So he decides to take the offer, though he doesn't leave immediately.

XXX

There's a gathering to see Loki off. Romanov is in a wheelchair, and she is weak, but she'll get better, and she'll get a nifty leg like Bucky's arm. Frigga is there, sad to see her child go again, but at the same time, very happy. Same goes for Thor, though a bit less on the happy. Tony had spent a lot of time with Loki before this, and he doesn't want Loki to go, and he had considered going with, but the land of Jotunheim is inhospitable to humans. Loki says she'll visit when she can. And she's not sure if it's the right choice, but she leaves.

XXX

Pepper is with Bruce, and they are watching Tony. He's acting like he's fine, putting a lot of focus into rebuilding dragons- though they won't be needed much if things go right -and doing everything he can to not be sad about Loki. It really isn't working. And Tony tries to say he's okay with it, but they also know he was looking into ways to go to Loki and not die of frostbite. But three months pass this way, and Loki doesn't visit. They hear about his work in Jotunheim, especially when Jotun show up more in places and are not as hated, though they still are. But they are reclaiming their pride.

XXX

Tony's finishing work for the day, and he's putting stuff away when there's a knock on the door. Tony says that he's closed, and he's not making another damn dragon. He's tired of it. But then there's a coy voice saying, "Not even for me?" and Tony is like holy shit, and he falls over himself running to the door, and he pulls it open to find Loki there, all blue skinned and wonderful. And Tony's like, "this is great!"

Then they talk, and it comes up how long Loki is staying, and Loki says forever. And Tony is at first confused, but the Loki says the throne wasn't for him. He got Jotunheim where they needed to be, and he appointed someone else ruler. But Loki, Loki belongs in Midgard with Tony. And hey, the war with the Chitauri is over, but there will be other problems one day, and the Corp needs their general. And the general needs a dragon.


End file.
